self-installed sainthood | every virtue hides a vice | a poem of nuances and fingerprints against vampires

you sit there and fidget

despising me in silence

for opening my mouth

you think betrayal

I think freedom


I keep talking

you pretend to listen

I’ve never seen eyes so vacant

can you hear me at all


you want it to be over

want me to be quiet

and complacent, play ball

let you off the hook

you rub your fingers

and pretend that you’re bleeding

please look at me!

look how I am suffering!

look at this!

look at that!

you inflicted wounds on others who actually took the hit

and now you claim sympathy, attention and care for yourself

pity me instead of those you victimised so viciously


so precious and safe in your little bubble of power

the true nature of a person comes out quickly

once you call them out on bad behaviour

good to see your face indeed

there it is

there it fucking is

stand by it

these are your choices

look at them


virtues straight out the window

you can’t play devil and saint at once

but you want to be perceived as an angel

so, so much

whilst you commit crime after crime beneath your self-installed halo


show me your virtues through actions on your feet

{heart front and centre

leave out your fingertips}

not in self-serving promotional words overselling yourself

Photo by Jill Burrow on

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