It Grows in You

Anger sprouts from within me,
A vindictive vine twisting it’s way up through the marrow of my bones,
Pollinating my blood, infecting my spirit.
I conjure your face in distaste and loathing,
When I was on the cross all you could do was turn away in disgust?
And now you’re hanging from the tree and screaming my name.
“Save me.”
You cry, and I reach for you when all you could do was walk away.
And now I wonder,
Am I strong for staying?
Or am I just too weak to leave?