How Can You Trust A Man Who Writes Poems About Himself?



man next to a lake
Ross Hughes

He fancies himself a lion among men.

He paints a picture of great courage and passion, tenacity and strength. He sells himself as honorable and dignified. A rock standing tall, strong and unwavering against the currents.

I assure you he is none of this.

He is not the man his mother raised him to be.

Peel away the cover of tales he has woven and you find that he is nothing more than a thief and a liar. His past reveals a tale of dishonesty, disloyalty and unfaithfulness. He is nothing more than a wordsmith. A troubadour spinning his words to capture poor unsuspecting souls. Always preying on those he deems less than himself.

He is manipulative and cold. He will build you up so long as it suits his needs and his wants. He will paint you gorgeous pictures if it gets you to bend to his desires. The image he paints is nothing but smoke and mirrors. When you express thoughts that may be different from his you are met with a petulant child who will do anything to bring you down. Your body will not show the usual signs of violence but the words he will use can leave you just as battered and bruised. The damage he does to you is nothing to him.

He is narcissistic and calculated. You are nothing more than a means to an end. When confronted or dismissed he will villainize you. He will twist your words and tear you down. He will not stop until the only thing that is left of your once abundant glow of passion and fire is a barely noticeable smolder.

He will steal your light and then tell you your darkness is too much.

He will dismiss your feelings because, foolish girl, the only feelings that matter are his own. He doesn’t love you. The only person he knows how to love is himself. He builds statues in his own honor made of the bones of those people he destroys.

He refuses to give acknowledgement, yet begs for it himself like a pathetic little puppy. The words he throws towards you meant only to bring upon guilt from you for failing to do so sooner. Your purpose was only to support and inflate his insatiable ego.

To him, you are disposable. You are temporary. You are nothing.

He is a snake, slithering his way into your life with venomous words and an even more deadly embrace. What starts out as a comforting grip soon leads to the smothering and stifling of everything that you are.

When he is done, he will slink away into the darkness he came from and you will be left alone to pick up the pieces and rebuild the life he tried so hard to destroy. TC mark



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