…alcoholics develop a kind of compensatory pride in feeling not enough…you have to have enough security to admit how insecure you are. (Clancy I)

Look at me, how good I am.
I’ve let you belittle me for years,
and took it, stoic, shooting the bird
out of your sight; occasionally
shouting back, when you invited me
to “Go to Hell!”, “I live there!”
I’ve accepted your dished-out guilt,
adopted it, owned it.
I’ve tried to be good enough,
kind enough, subservient for you.

Look at me, how good I am.
What you think of me is none
of my business. I think I have worth
and I will do what’s necessary
to live it.