As the water dries from disillusioned eyes,
something else emerges,
the other self I’d submerged.
She takes her chance to seep all the way in,
flourishing, allowing me release.
What good did being good get me but grief,
that woman has long enough grieved.
Where being good drowned me,
she helps me breath
standing to give me peace
protecting me from hereon in
a sheltering self,
tough enough to face the world’s ignominy.
Maybe, one day, I’ll allow you reprieve
but not now, dear. I’ll hold you close
watching you as you rest after trying your best.
How I love to see you sleep
while I grow strong, the bad seed.