For so long I was the man inside punching me

The boxer

The toturer

Beating the self inside looking back at my life with one set of eyes

While I tried to stumble forward with another.

For so long I was the man inside beating me

Beating my heart

Beating my mind

Beating me for all the stupid shameful things I had done until….

One day

As I had done with a father that once beat me into a wall

I turned on that inside self 

In mid blow

I stopped the flailing fists

And said with a love of my self

A defiance of the self loathing self hate I had been taught

And believed was right, 


NO MORE!” I cried into my darkness where the blows had been coming from

And they slowed

Becoming weaker

And a voice from the slowly failing blows blew my way…

“You’re not so bad

You never were

It’s just that damned over blown conscience of yours making me do this to you”  it whispered

Then became a muttering 

Comforting ghost to me every day.

Sometimes I think of those that had real reasons for guilt

Real guilt

A guilt of truly hurting others…

People I knew far far worse than I…

Oh where did they go with all the bad they’d done

The woman that had cheated on me

The men that stole from me

The tricksters

The malicious pranksters

And bullies…

Oh so many those bullies…

Oh I wonder if there was ever a boxer

A torturer inside

Beating them every day

Every moment 

As mine

As I’d done to myself so long.

If not

I wonder if they had 

Or ever had 




A desire to right wrongs

Make amends.

Over the years I have seen no sign of that in those truly monstrous people

And that is the most horrible thing about them:

There was no boxer

No torturer inside them 

To awaken them 

Forge them

Make them better people 

No conscience…

No conscience…

And they are still out there…


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