Passive aggressive bullies. A breed unto their own. Mean streaks mixed with self loathing, a combination of bad seeds planted and buried deep until the rain comes. Mud that drowns the already suffocated, but fuels the malice and the seething. There is no bravery. There is no forward motion. Just blunt jabs that weather the opponent, in the same slow fashion that the rain turns the soil to mud. In the same hide and seek manner of a coward, that has no real voice, other than the ones that torment just them inside the dark soaked corners of their own ever growing, nurtured self pity. Blind to the rainbows. Blind to the sunlight – and deaf to the humbling sounds of life that comes after a good storm.
I would rather a stand up good fight. A bloodied and honest battle. An all cards on the table slam down, even if I lost. Even if I lost by one point on a technicality. Even if I didn’t even get a punch in and I was knocked out. Knocked down and kicked in the mouth. I would rather that, than to look into the eyes of someone who smiles with softness while polishing the serrated home made (with love) knife that they plan to use, the moment I show frailty of any kind. Those soft eyes and that smile will not even maintain eye contact while they ram their pain into your chest with a heart full of their own shame. They can’t. They are mute. They are yellow. They are drunk on how wronged they are.
If they stood and beat their chests, they would be heard. But they don’t. They slither and have become so accustomed to looking ‘up’ at those they hate so much, that there is no room for light, forgiveness, rational thinking, or even for reflection. Short sighted and cowardly – and the permenancy of that, is all them. All them. It is the reason they will never be respected. It is the reason they will always be reminded that the ground is where they started and the ground is where you will end.