A poem about them (or every me and every you sometimes)
They touch gold and turn it into coal;
a Midas myth somehow reversed.
Valuable people approach them,
but end up leaving them as cursed.
A self-destructive mania seems
to have taken over their being;
love is what they’re thirsty for,
but love allergy they’re manifesting.
The more you take care of them,
the more you gradually become
the main person they compress,
since you also “sign” that “contract”.
They depend on you even to breathe,
but they will never admit it.
On the contrary, they’ll present themselves
as superior, artfully hiding it.
Whenever your point of view
is different from theirs about something,
they take it personally at once
saying strictly “you reject me”.
Their narcissistic inner eater
demands from you indirectly
to put them in the center of
your attention permanently.
The main role they want you to play
is the one of their admirer.
They don’t really believe in themselves;
they need you to put them higher.
Many of them have accomplished a lot
in the external field, in many ways,
but they don’t see it or it’s not enough;
a childhood issue still haunts their days.
Until the widening of their perception
about themselves and the pan-cosmic functions,
fear will be their catastrophic counselor,
giving directions to their actions.
Inspired by the following song, but also by my fellow humans, my other selves…
Every Me And Every You
Ανθή Ψωμιάδου 