Poem: She

And she was all of the
abusive people
I have ever known;
Screaming and ranting
like a baby.
She said
every dirty thing
she could
finally ending with
"I'll bet you think you're hot shit,
don't you"
as I walked out the door.

She had said it all before,
yet somehow it didn't hurt me
this time.
I just felt sorry fopr her.

If I wasn't there
she screamed at the local shildren.
If they weren't there
her cats got the brundt.

Suddenly I wasn't hurt
or angry.
I didn't feel sorry for myself;
"that I had been abused so."
I just felt sorry for her;
that poor, ill woman,
filled with rage,
only for herself,
perpetually venting,
at the world.

Anger wants to beget
anger.
To make the fire grow.

Hers had found
no fuel in me.
Leaving her to bare
her burden
alone.