Festering Tought and Panic at the Disco

We don't know each other, therefore, I must explain parts of my rant as I move along. Thus far in my relationships, I have been cheated on with every encounter, lied to, treated like an emotional punching bag, personal maid, Mother, therapist and fuck doll for the liking of men. I was married to a P.O.S who fucked my sister while we were married and I have been left for dead by my best friend who believes his own lies. These festering thoughts of tasting their blood in my mouth while they die on the floor next to my feet is a warrior's cry for revenge and justice.

 If I gave in to these urges I would be no better than those who inflicted their suffering upon my sensitive soul raping the very nature to heal those in need. The fraction of the person I became never rose to be more and, I intend to be more. So what's a woman to do when Men aren't close to being as good as their word or the skin they were printed on? She calls to her Ancestors for guidance. She calls to her guides for patience, compassion, and understanding of her role. And, in every situation, reconciles with her shadows to work for her and not against. While Karma takes too long for her liking, she takes pause to hear the messages bestowed for her ascension. While the Universe does her work, she takes care of her soul, her energy and rest assured that their time will come and it won't be pretty. But, in the meantime, bind them to their words and chaos so they may feel the sting of their folly. Send them love and light towards a long and healthy life so that they may relive their mistakes over and over again. 

These festering thoughts will only bring pain and anguish if held tightly in the night when sleeping should be had.  So, to best deal with said emotions, it has been told, to keep hold to your own by minding them close and steadgast strong words in cages for another time. Be kind to thyself while in transition and make no mention of their transgressions as it may turns for you. The path towards salvation is singular and long however the victory is sweet like honey on a cold night in warm cups.