Passive Agressive

It started out small. Just a scratch. But, she picked at it and picked at it. Infection spread. This isn't right. I'm right. They're wrong. They did me wrong. What about me? They're going to pay. Fingers point outward never in. Soon, the world revolves around the gaping wound. Anyone who could have helped has long since been demeaned and discarded. She cut them down to feel tall. Her misery is their fault. Now, her pain is her purpose. She snakes and she slithers, stalking her prey. A smile on her face and a knife in her hand never knowing that she is killing her chance for all that she's wanted.

Say what you mean and mean what you say; life's too short to live it this way.