Anger.

Blood red in its intensity
its depth
its power.

How dare you.

How bloody dare you.
Manipulating my thoughts and words
to suit your own needs
then saying this is what I do to you.

How dare you.
Playing games with my insecurities
behaving like a spoilt child
stamping your feet and yelling
when someone says no.

How dare you.
Demanding my attention
then twisting me around to
give you a sense of power
over me and the situation.

How dare you.
Batting your eyelashes to all
playing up to other’s weaknesses
so much so, that you don’t know when 
to stop, be real, be true.

How dare you.
Being dazzled by superficiality
not basing people’s worth on who they are
but on who they know, and
how that serves you.

You may dare
to create your flimsy world
by chipping away
at another’s self-esteem
but I won’t feed your
thirst for control
your lack of inner happiness or
sacrifice my sanity
for you anymore.

You may say
“How dare you … “

Well, I say – yes, I dare.

© S McLean 1999


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