When you open your eyes,
and see your old torturer,
One of the crowd,
Post to their friends,
About how we should all be nice,
How they are a good person,
A veritable Mother Theresa,
They can hide behind,
Their wordy facade,
I doubt they even remember,
All the pain they caused,
The punishment they dished,
The hate they served,
The destruction they wreaked,
Everyone says,
Be the bigger man,
Forgive them and move on,
I even tell myself,
Don't let them take anymore,
but now they advocate peace,
The hypocrites call for love,
It was not my fault,
That I read then understood,
In a time of half,
Of the wielders of fists,
And size 6 boots,
It was not my fault,
That I had to try less than them,
I never rubbed it in their faces,
Always I would try to help,
Even after they beat me,
Still I played the friend,
To those who joined me,
In the land of pain,
After they left,
They ensured I stayed,
Forgotten was my aid,
You have ruined me,
Broken my sense of self,
Made me afraid,
You have moved on now,
But not before you taught me,
How to self loathe,
I can not forgive you,
Your crime will live in me,
Until my dying breath
