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✖ labbid ✖
✖ erythrophobe ✖
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Monday, August 23, 2010
23.8.10You glare at your reflection in your mirror, your zombie-like reflection, covered in wrinkles, dark eyebags and pockmarks. The years have each left its tale to tell on your face, and you are like a weathered tree, jaded and cynical.
Age has stolen all of the positivity and enthusiasm you ever had. The optimism shattered like a window in the storm, the laughter that crinkled your face pulled straight, before being folded once again into age-old folds.
Your heart doesn't forgive. It never sees any reason or rhyme to do so. The man who cheated on you, the woman who betrayed your trust, the daughter-in-law who rebels against you. Won't you have a little mercy, dear? Your eyes betray the bitter resentment you harbour against so many.
You blame the man who cheated on you, an impulsive act that cost him his marriage. No, not even an act. Just straying feelings from a wife who never knew him well. It never once crossed your mind that it could be you. You blame the woman who betrayed your trust, not realizing she had her moments of folly, and that friendships made gold seem like dirt. The daughter-in-law who rebelled, she should never have come into your cosy home. The balance of life was upsetted, the status quo ripped up and thrown away.
Today, you stand hunched over the sink, veins portruding from your calf, the solemn result of gout. You stand bitter and resenting.
Won't you just forgive once, my dear?
~*Labbid.12:.