Paranoid Effects

I’ve never been truly paranoid until now.
I don’t want to stop writing.
I don’t want to stop blogging.

But what if my secret gets out?

I am drawn to writing,
Advertising my thoughts
Thrilled by the idea of the world
Knowing what I’m thinking.
Agreeing
Disagreeing

Thankful for my honesty.

The paranoia stems from you
Your inability to deal with the truth
Your desire to make everyone feel worse than you do
Your pompous arrogance
Your shameless comments

And I’m the one you’re trying to censor?

You think you’ve won,
And for now,
I’m forced to succumb
To my sensitivity
My paranoia
Created by you
And your wandering eyes

You haven’t won
—Blog away!—

I must.

You’re the loser
One harmless, utterly painless
Series of thoughts
Hurting you to the core of your manhood

For a writer
Scared into submission
At the thought of losing her job
Because you can’t handle the truth
About yourself
Has provided her with
An obsession to write

Uncensored

Without your approval
Because of your disapproval

Your idle threats
Your scared, rabbit eyes
Stone-cold through the day
Tears streaming on your pillow in the darkness
Why?

Mutual contempt.

All this wasted energy
To appease your bruised ego
And censor an innocent writer

Sleep soundly now
The blogs have been destroyed
No one would have known it was you
Anonymous to the world you were

My honesty cut you.
Our confrontation surprised you.
You had no idea I would stand by my words
You thought your brute strength would scare me into

Apologetic vomiting

Wrong again
And now
You have a writer
Angry with you
Disgusted by you

Be careful, foe

You have turned yourself into
A writer’s nemesis.