Don't Ask Me To Be Grateful For The Knife

You said it was mercy.

That it was for the best.

That this distance would help everyone heal.

But don’t dress betrayal in white robes and call it wisdom.

Don’t ask me to bow to a blade that gutted my heart.

You cut me out, spun a tale where I was the storm- then blamed me for the wreckage you left behind.

And now you want me grateful? to whisper “thankyou” for the pain I didn’t choose?

No.

I honor the lessons.

But I will never bow to the method.