Ghosts of Roadkill - not so poem

What the hell am I doing?

One of you withholds information like a dam

My efforts contributed nothing to your well-being

Any and all messages reported spam

Lost in your labyrinthine head

I should've realized my fogs are your clarities!

These few months being careful where I tread

Were yours to step on all toes for free!

I should have taken your words at face value

The reason my complaints remain inadmissible

"Anyone owes me nothing and nothing I owe you"

Till then, understanding you was impossible

What the hell am I doing?

The other of you describes themself as empathic

You would much rather stay coddled, cooing

Searching for a mother in all faces, erratic

Here I am, the bitter fool your eyes laid upon

The only comfort you can offer yourself

Is the soft foundation of your wrong opinions

You wound me up then asked for my best self...

What the hell am I doing?

Excessively judgmental, petty, fallible, 

Rough, blunt, rude and sensitive

I'm the one glancing over my shoulder

I'm the one the ghosts of roadkill call to

I'm the one who checks under each rock

Seeking the knowledge I'll always regret having

Overcomplicating what could be uncomplicated

I feel what I feel and I cannot stop it

Three ghosts call to me once more

Reminding me of a time when I was subservient

Easy, palatable and simple to keep around

Why are my needs an embarrassment?

One of you asked if my emotions needed protecting

When your sorry ass needs protecting from yourself

Why is my humanity a wretched thing?

The other of you thinks gen ai music is a good thing

Then gets mad at the thought of being seen as a plagiarist

Not at the action of committing plagiarism itself

Why do I insist on looking back?

Whatever I gain from feeding my shame...

Hopefully a life lesson or two

But I think I should feel stronger

Resilient, that image of a ride or die friend

Why do I feel like a stay home and live friend?

Am I truly beyond tired?

That beyond handling my own negativity and that of others?

How much should I be able to carry?

How can one help the helpless, including myself?

If I can't avoid looking back, then...

Why can't I stand the company of the ghosts in the road?

Should I keep them company?

Could I?

We formed an imperfect triangle, the flawed three of us

This unfortunate trio might as well be stood behind me

Ghastly, bloodshot eyes counting my sins as I tread forth

I glance over my shoulder at the three of us and think:

"Those three would fit so nicely in a tiny car for clowns."

- flowersnbullets

11.09.26