A Gnat's Sigh

So you pitched yourself a nutty,
tried to make everyone around you miserable,
a warped reflection of the horror in your own heart.

I can't help you
until you realize you need help
and I can't stand you until then, either.

I'd call you a bitch
if that didn't insult my dog,
the one you direct your negative energy towards
when she gives you a cheerful greeting.

And I can't draw the lesson that dog offers
for time and time again she approaches you
though every time you say 'Get away from me! I DON'T like you!'

I tried that tactic myself,
but I'll only be kicked so many times
before I stop playing the welcome mat.

Mind the dark, poisoned mead that is rage.
Bittersweet is the red hue that stains your sight.
Scenes and tantrums are not forms of higher communication.
Addiction is not restricted to the corporeal realm.

What to do when confronted with the behaviour of a pre-teen
couched in the body of an adult?

I can't help you
for I need help myself
I am bruised too,
and other things are wrong besides you.
I too grasp at each new straw
for each precious breath of peace.

And this is all but the sigh of a gnat in a maelstrom.