You didn’t have to threaten us.
The poison ran deep in our family blood.
It left indents whenever your fingers moved up and down our arms.
Hatred led your cracked hand to that full syringe.
You can’t pretend destruction never existed within you.
There was no amount of stitches to close what you opened.
There was no amount of reversing the magnitude of your infection.
You even managed to dilute the antidote until it was cloudy.
We understood what absence of caring meant.
We knew the hidden monster behind the human face.
You were not lost or alone.
You changed piece by piece beyond repair.
Your shadow grew disproportionate to your body.
It became stronger every passing year.
What you lost didn’t matter compared to the arrogance you gained.
There was no amount of hope to hold onto with our broken hearts.
Your blood told the truth when you couldn’t.