The path with a narcissist is always brutal. I hate that I ever conceived with him. I write anytime, especially when I hurt or grieve. I do.

The devaluation & discard phase of narcissistic abuse was as bad as his rage. It cost me a couple of months of sobriety & nearly my life.

I learned that no matter how many promises they make or self-deprecating words they use, the narcissist has one setting: cruelty and abuse.

I wrote this poem months ago, feeling lost, unseen, breaking under the weight of an impossible archetype that regarded not my own humanity.