Checkmate

Nothing is ever her fault,

The poor Damsel in Distress

Causes her own problems

And hopes that others will fix them.

.

Her moods shift

Like a car gear,

And exhaust emotions

Like flames burning the engine.

.

You never know what mood she takes,

Or when her personality shifts,

Because the trauma pops like bubbles

And changes her perception.

.

The rage intensifies

Like an underground bomb;

The same questions

Lead the distressed to imploding.

.

She cannot escape,

And tries understanding

Why bad things take place.

She doesn't realize that her personality ends her case.

.

She becomes who she admires,

But will lie

After stealing who they are,

Because her identity is cheap, like the dollar tree.

.

Her lies creep;

Her aura is dense,

And people stay away;

Their words contradict her delusions.

.

She fails to know her selfishness

And only commits what will benefit;

Her defensive thinking

Causes tantrums that rotate.

.

She is happy again

And lacks any understanding;

Her childlike personality

Is her trauma reenacting.

.

Her impulsive spending

And her ignorance

Make her black and white,

And terrible with communicating.

.

Don't say that you love her,

Or that you hate her,

Because any response is fraudulent

And cancels out the imposter.

.

She creates her own problems

And can never solve them;

Then wonders why people leave her

As she's the last chess piece standing.

.

Checkmate, the Queen is down,

As her pawns defend her,

But she hates them

Because they've abandoned her.

.

Her pawns run

While she tries to touch,

And hits the board,

No longer moving.