Poem for the narcissistic wound

[Magicdreamer]

When I was a child,

I use to pretend I was dead.

I didn't understand why I wanted the people I loved,

to cry, mourn, and grieve over me.

I still don't understand love,

even though it's something we be.

I wanted the people I loved,

to come and rescue me.

I wanted them to show me,

a part of me,

that was worthy of being loved.

Instead, I grew up ashamed of me,

because the people,

who were suppose to take care of me,

criticised and belittled me.

Now my journey inward,

is helping me see,

I'm not to blame for this silly game.

I took it upon myself,

and became vain,

so that the pain,

wouldn't remain.

And now I see a different side to me,

my very own integrity.

Something vanity can never give to me. ❤️💚💎