That boy died a long time ago.
The man who replaced him
was born the morning
his innocence was taken
in the instant
another man’s hands
closed around my throat.
In that moment,
rage felt justified.
Hatred felt justified.
Even the loss of humanity
felt justified.
To surrender myself
to the darker corners of my mind
felt safer
than ever allowing myself
to be vulnerable again.
I survived
the selfish necessities of my mother.
I survived that household,
though some part of me
still wishes
I could have burned it to the ground
and left nothing behind.
For nearly a decade
I pretended to be
something I am not.
I tried to be human
in the way the world expects.
I buried myself
in work and alcohol,
trying to suffocate
what I felt.
I let people
pick me up
and put me down
like an accessory
again and again
people who never
truly valued me.
For years
I let the grief
of that dead boy
cloud my judgment.
Eventually,
surrendering to the shadow
that protected me
all those years ago
felt more natural
than anything else
I had ever done.
The thought of sovereignty
of owning my own emotions
of never again
being manipulated
or controlled
felt like power.
But power
has its cost.
Much of it
is lonely.
Still,
I have spent years
forging myself
into someone stronger,
someone worthy
of the things
that burn inside me
worthy of arrogance,
worthy of rage,
worthy of desire,
worthy of the fear
and respect
of those around me.
I want to become
the demon
that little boy needed
in that moment.
I want horns and wings,
the kind of strength
that ensures
I will never
be that weak again.
For too long
I threw myself
into other people,
hoping someone
might fill
the hollow in my chest.
But darkness
carved that hollow,
and no one else
can fill it for me.
The only answer
is strength.
Dominance.
Confidence.
Becoming
the thing
that boy needed
when no one else came.
I imagine
wrapping myself
in shadow
like armor
something that cannot
be pierced,
cannot be humiliated,
cannot be broken.
I refuse
to ever feel
that helpless again.
I crave independence
the way a drowning man
craves air.
I crave sovereignty
the way blood
craves its own veins.
I will never again
be that pathetic
or helpless.
When I prayed
as a child,
begging for rescue,
begging for suffering
to end,
no human answered.
No angel came.
Only shadow remained.
And that same shadow
the one I once denied
is what carried me through.
I will let it
protect me
when I need protection.
I will let it
lend me strength
when I am weak.
But I will not
let it rule me.
I refuse
to become only
the darkness
that grew from my childhood.
Because that boy
the one who died
wanted more
for himself.
In some ways,
his life
was stolen.
But the man he became
the demon
that rose
from that moment
will not allow
the rest of his life
to be taken too.
I will not let hatred
become the anchor
that drags me
beneath the water.
I will carry
the shadow with me,
but I
will decide
where it leads.