Keeping track of the track record left behind by all whom I have a tendency to forget, who had a hand in lowering the knife from the back of my heart.
Forgiveness was never supposed to be forgetting what was written by my own blood on the walls I had raised out of fear.
Now pulling down, because I don’t deserve to live in fear of cowards who stabbed my heart from the back and ran at the sight of my success smile on the front.
Because everyone knows what comes after that: the vengeance that is not mine.
You stabbed the heart that is not mine, and now you’ll get the outcome. People always question, “What was that?” That was not me. You are getting what you stabbed.
Payback is a bitch, but my silence is what should scare you. I speak when I give up, and I stay silent when I don’t.
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