The Tapestry of Poison
The tapestry of life has threads of gloom,
Where toxic darkness drains the spirit's bloom.
Some things in life are toxic, subtly sly,
Environments that stifle, habits that deny
Our health, or institutions built on lies—
The silent poisons that before us rise.
As harmful are the ties that bring us pain,
Some people in life who are toxic, they remain
Emotional vampires, constant critics cold,
Passive aggressors, stories to be told
Of manipulation, thriving on the storm,
Suffocating potential, leaving us worn.
Beyond the things and people we may face,
Some activities are toxic in this space.
The compulsions offering distraction's grace,
But long-term regret we cannot erase:
The relentless pursuit, the endless scroll,
The cycles that entrap and take their toll.
So why do we still use these things we know?
Is it comfort, fear, or letting inertia grow?
And why do we still talk to these people too?
Is it guilt, obligation, hope that's often through?
Why on the altar of connection's name,
Do we sacrifice our peace to feed their flame?
If the outcome's negative, why do we stay?
Why do we still do these activities every day?
The self-sabotage, the deeply set-in need,
Why do we torment ourselves by doing the same things repeatedly indeed?
A closed, agonizing loop of self-inflicted harm,
Where inertia holds us in its harmful arm.
But the moment of reckoning demands its due,
A crystallizing truth, unflinching, strong, and new:
Enough! I am done! a line across the sand,
The absolute refusal, a sovereign command.
To the source of the poison, the message is clear,
Take your toxicity and your self-righteous attitude and leave me here.
Leave me be, so I can move on and find my peace,
Grant me the space for wounds to heal and cease.
Leave me be and stop pretending you ever cared,
The charade of concern, its hollow core laid bare.
Leave me be and let me live my life as it should be,
Unburdened by your shadow, finally free.
My future is my own, not for your design,
Leave me be and stop pretending that you ever cared is the final sign.
Severing the chains of a love that was a lie,
Walking into freedom beneath a clear, blue sky.
Works by Nancy Ann Creed
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