You did crack, I wrote some poems

ONE

Are you not embarrassed, are you not tired, are you not humiliated?

It always comes back to this, to you, to your mess

I’ve only ever wanted peace for you

But pieces of you are sloughing off your soul with each cycle

I’m so tired

My friend is dead, who is this?

Fuck your peace, you selfish, broken, coward

I do not wish you peace

I do not wish you peace

You have forsaken it, you have spit on it

You keep your woe, your dread and fear

And let that feed you instead

TWO

Peace be not upon you, Benefic Prophet

You deserve the discomfort

You deserve to be uncomfortable

You are pathetic you are selfish you are ungrateful

You are a stain and a disappointment

Peace be not upon you, Benefic Prophet

You may not whine or weep, you may not plead

You may not beg or bargain, you may not implore

The support you need is not what you seek

What you seek is an insult, Benefic Prophet

You do not know what you need

Your vision is so warped

What kind of prophet can you even be?

THREE

You cannot expect us

To stand by

While you continue a cycle

Of self-flagellation

Because you do not know your worth from dirt

You will not find salvation in the arms of another

You do not get to plead for love

While you disrespect that which you are given

The crack of a whip

The hiss of a flame

The song of a blade

How can you make us watch you bleed?

How can you call us cruel for looking away?

You do not deserve to ask us to stay

FOUR

You forsake the peace that others pray you receive

You break and break and break the trust

I’m sick and sick and sick and tired

Of your pathetic, cowardly behaviour

Get uncomfortable

You deserve to feel the demons scraped out of you

The rot and ruin, the ravaged

You deserve to feel yourself emptied

You deserve the triumph of being remade

Chaos does not cease gently, boy

You must rip it from your very soul

To ever feel absolved

You deserve the pain of healing

You deserve the pain of humanity

Do the work, boy

No one else can do it for you

FIVE

I am tired

I am tired

How aren’t you tired?

Aren’t you tired?

You are ravaged, rotten and ruined

You do not see the worth in your renewal

You make us watch

You beg for us to watch

Call us cruel for looking away

False claims

If you loved me you would stay

You do not know love

You forsake the love you are given

I am sick from you

We are sick from you

You may not plead

For witnesses to your self-destruction

You are tired

You are tired

So stop

Why won’t you stop?

You are the only one who can

SIX

Eat your shame

Eat your guilt

Pretty, broken, boy

Who begs to be witnessed

Who begs to be absolved

You are not starved of love

You are not starved of kindness

Eat your fear

Eat your anger

You are not starved of bravery

You are not starved of justice

Beautiful, rotten, boy

Who pleads for peace

Who pleads for calm

They are yours to take

They are yours to claim

SEVEN

A bone rebroken to be properly set

You must bear the pain

Of healing

A mind full of knots to be untangled

You must do the work

Of healing

It must be for you

It is yours

It matters

You matter

EIGHT

You have an empty vessel

Neglected and worn through

It cannot hold water

It cannot be refilled

You have a broken heart

With missing shards

Stuck in every hand that hurt you

Stuck in your own hand too

You have a gaping wound

Rotten and as old as you

That vices cannot numb

That lovers cannot sew

You have this mess you’ve made

It’s all here on the floor

If you want to clean it up

The medicine is in the cabinet

And the glue is in the drawer

NINE

Don’t beg for an audience

He who donned the fool’s crown

Nothing you say holds water

No one is going to save you

Don’t ask us to watch you drown

TEN

I ask what pain is worth feeling;

The pain of healing or

The misery you’re in?

You beg for relief

But you cannot be led to water

You won’t drink, you won’t bathe

Could it be that

The pain of the familiar

Is easier than

The pain of the unknown?

I ask what pain is worth feeling

You lie and say you’re numb.

Surrender to the river, Angel

So you can enjoy the sun

FIN

Thank you so much for reading. Poetry is not a medium I usually gravitate towards but it is very significant to the person I am writing about. This is very raw and vulnerable. If you enjoyed my work and would like to support me, please consider leaving a tip.

— Rooney