she clings to her martyred victim-hood
the list of wrongs and injustices inflicted
fills her with orgasmic satisfactions
like a sonorously chanted Greek tragedy,
or a heartbreakingly painted portrait
(earning her an eternal saint wali bodhisattvas status)
she brandishes her lists of agonies suffered
crosses toted
crown of thorns worn
(oh so fashionably)
just more excuses to excuse the failures in her life
more rationales to rationalize the easily explainable
more lies to manipulate our gullible sensitive sensibilities
(encouraging others to say oh, what a brave poor soul she is)
it never occurs to these sympathizing well meaning friends
to inquire
why she stays with her abuser
or returns to him time and time
again
so much easier for the saint
to blame her life, family, children, friends, circumstances
the moon in Aquarius
or Mars in Venus, perhaps
(she is the ultimate narcissist and breast beater)
so she continues to cry
love me pity me love me pity me
don't save me
I can't won't shan't save
me/self/id/ego/superego/sanity
just bravely continuing to soldier on
and hold her head up bravely, resolutely
singing Onward Christian Soldiers
or maybe I Never Promised You a Rose Garden
something along those lines
I'm sure
(always artistically, dramatically and poignantly performed)