Don't Turn Me

I’ve walked a lifetime on paths of thorn,  

Trauma woven, heartstrings worn.  

Never once did I strike a soul,  

Gave my all—the coin, the dole.

Offered up the shirt from my back,  

My plate of food, my humble shack.  

Aimed to shield from darkest days,  

From haunted memories that always stay.

Yet that specter looms behind,  

In twisted dreams, it binds and blinds.  

I’ve borne this cross through endless nights,  

Fleeing shadows, fleeing frights.

Now, over half a century’s toll,  

No ill will harbored, despite the hole.  

But the anger stirs, deep and fierce,  

Years of pain, layer pierced.

Inwardly, the turmoil turned,  

Self-inflicted, while justice yearned.  

And here you are, taking my voice,  

Judging without cause, without a choice.

Silenced by your cold decree,  

Blinded to the truth of me.  

Refusing to become your beast,  

Against your chains, I shall resist.

Beneath the calm, a tempest lies,  

A dark desire that never dies.  

Why awaken this dormant beast?  

Why stir the specter from its feast?

Must you paint me as the night?  

Must you twist me in your spite?  

Hear the whispers in the wind,  

They chant of innocence, condemned.

Look beyond the surface marred,  

See the man, not the scars.  

I am still the soul I was,  

Not your villain, not your cause.

In the echoes of my screams,  

Find the truth, not what it seems.  

Release me from this haunted plea,  

I am more than you believe me to be.

Beware the wrath of a gentle man wronged,  

With a heart that’s tired, but headstrong.  

For if the beast within awakes,  

It’s not just my soul that breaks.

A torrent of tears will surely flow,  

From seeds of wrath you carelessly sow.  

Do not push me to the brink,  

For I am closer than you think.

Temper your judgments, hold your stare,  

Lest you invoke a nightmare.  

Understand this, my solemn vow,  

I am not what you fear, not now..