Resentment

How difficult it is,

to see your life force drained

siphoned

to feel as if something has been stolen

ripped from you

When you probably created the gash from whence you bleed out

Like a child that discarded a toy

only to want it back when someone else picks it up

 

You should probably walk away

Save some face

Yet you keep fighting

You keep holding on

 

Feelings of resentment bubble up inside

But who can you really blame?

The usurper?

Or just you?

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