The Dress

Hurt people, hurt people.
When you were young,
you stole a dotted dress,
accidently tearing it in two.

Your mother cursed at you for your sharp tongue.
And when she found out about her dress,
she threw a chair at your vulnerable head.

Hurt people, hurt people.
But today you stubbornly insist
that it was not as bad as it seemed.
Instead, you are mad
about something I did or said.

While your mother used her fist
to force false ideas into your head,
you force your toxic mindset upon me
with a hiss, with a word, with a sentence – causing pain.

The only way out of this pothole was to flee.
People who weren’t heard,
want other people to feel hurt.

© Elena Natroshvili

IG: 16minutepoetry