What I learned this year: 2024: dark poetic writing: moral crimes:

 

People either care or they don't, nothing can make them better people, they can hide behind good deeds all they want and smile at cameras and pretend that their achievements stand for something, but the truth is and the harsh reality of it is, they haven't earned them.

For every single person that they harmed, made feel less than, ostracised, invalidated, ganged up against, didn't remain impartial, put promotions over the rights of, allowed to be abused by people they know, used the power of their organisation or company or group names to bring heat and trolling to, ignored, bullied themselves, hated on, mislabeled, misjudged, threw away, told people not to speak to, lied about, made the mental health worse of, added struggles to the life of, made feel suicidal, rejected, betrayed, abandoned, the list goes on; they can't escape that they chose poorly and by not fixing it or apologising or bringing forth resolution which is their moral responsibility as a leader and everything and anything else they stand for, they have failed.

Failed themselves.

Failed others.

Silencing is the choice of weapon so their victims have to be vague. Using the system to take away their rights to feel upset, harmed, abandoned, hurt, betrayed, have valid reactions, is just one key they've used in the lock on the box to seal their moral crimes. The sides they've taken are hills they'll die on as they trample on anyone who dares to spread the truth.

They will eventually be their own demise, because behaviour has a pattern, and it's repetitive and representative of who they really are, not who they claim they are.

Doors may be closed. Lies may be hidden.

But it's not me that they should be afraid of, it's who they really are that will destroy them, unless they choose to change to become who they claim. I never instil fear I seek resolution and apologies and togetherness. Mislabeled and tossed to the side over their ego and pride. Forced to hide, what they've done. It's wrong.

I got triggered today, I cried, I grieved for all the sabotage I've endured and all I've lost, the projects and things I've had to step away from, this cryptic poetic expression of experiences is the result.

Freedom of expression is what I stand for, so allow me to be cryptic and vague, because sabotage never was my colour and I'll never wear it, unlike them. I prefer people to be genuine and thrive, not hate and despise and sabotage.

I'm proud of those they do help, but they can help millions and it will never change the few they harmed. Harm stays, like decay, eating away at the insides of those they've harmed by choice and made to hide, the truth.

If only we could find peace, without resolution, we mourn all that was flaunted in front of us, all we've lost as a result of their actions. Mistreatment is mistreatment no matter how you dress it up. You can add gold and ribbons and bows and lists and lists of good deeds they have done but that one heinous act will remain, they never fixed it, fixed themselves. They never corrected their mistake when they hated with haste.

Such distaste.

My mouth still full of the venom shot at me from people who claim to be 'nice', to be 'kind' and I can't change things and I cannot rewind time.

I can't shake the feelings they leave in their wake, the pain and shock and discontent.

They did what they did and they left me with the weight of it.

Stapled my lips to my face to never fully be able to process or repeat or regurgitate it.

Despite how heavy it weighs and my body can't recover from it. I drown with it, in it, and have to learn to live with it. Forever labelled too sensitive because I want the basics others take for granted, I'm hated because others don't know how to appreciate it.

Make it make sense.

I'm out of the depths of hell now so why does my memory want to feel the weight of it still, why can't it just let it go and be done with it, accept the harm and truth for how harsh and awful it is and move forward from it.

Injustice will never be something I can swallow easily. 

My morals may be my downfall one day, as I can't escape them, I can't change them, wrong is wrong is wrong is wrong. Eternally.

Depression has thrived through your actions, you should be laughing, you got what you wanted, you trampled on a truth speaker, resolution and apologies seeker, all because you don't want to admit that you could be wrong or harmful or abusive or malicious. 

You refuse to look in a mirror, you'd rather smash your victims and see them as threats than accept the facts that you chose this. You chose this.

We didn't.

Good riddance.

You chose this, we didn't.

Let me regurgitate this: good riddance.

Sarah Wingfield Author 🌹