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‘Your heroes are my villains’ and other poems by Linda Crate

By: Linda M. Crate

your heroes are my villains

dressed in black,
they think:
oh, must be a villain—

but most of the heroes
in my life wear black

you can’t trust those
who wear white
no one is innocent and
driven pure as the

and those who virtue signal
usually have the most to hide;

i won’t trust anyone you say is
a hero
because most of your heroes
have proven to be my villains—

i will trust everyone who
admits they are flawed

because people show you
their true colors,
and black is never cruel;
sometimes white is.


i have seen light destroy

the darkness isn’t
evil or oppressive

i was born at night
the moon and stars
have always
guided me

black is my happy color,
and white the hue
i wear when i am depressed;

because sometimes
the world is cruel and vicious
and they call that
darkness but honestly they are
just blaming a scapegoat

instead of doing the shadow work
needed to free their souls—

i won’t believe anyone who
tells me they’re of the light
because they often think darkness
is evil and destructive,
but i have seen light destroy and the
moon has always protected me.


with the light of moons and stars

black cats
aren’t unlucky,
they have
always been kind to me;

little balls of fluff
just looking to be loved
as they are

i can relate—

no one understands
the mythology of my bones
or the language of my soul,

but they’re so quick to
judge it;

they whisper of my darkness
not realizing that their light
is dimming every time they’re
cruel to me—

worry about your own light,
mine never dies;

i shine with the light of moons and stars.


i won’t play with your demons

you left me in
the darkness
to wither and die,

but you didn’t realize
it was my birth right;

daughter of the moon
with a garden full of flowers
in my heart i just rose
from the soil of your trauma
stronger than before—

you told me once that i wasn’t
white as the pure driven snow,

i know i am not innocent;
but i am worthy of love despite
my flaws & my darkness isn’t a weapon
i use to wound others unless they
choose my spite instead of my love—

my story isn’t over,
and in my dream you were walking
the dark corridors of hell;

so i guess you must enjoy being
devoured by your pain

some of us rise above it.


it’s not that simple

i am no longer afraid
of my dark feminine,
found out she wasn’t
the vile and evil thing they
said to me she was;

and i am a bit ashamed
how long it took me
to realize that—

after all i was born in darkness,
i knew the dark wasn’t wicked;

sometimes the light comes
from the halo of a fallen angel
so be careful who you
pray to—

i am the daughter of the moon
and the stars have always
given me kindness,

i shine even when in the dark;

so don’t believe them when they say
that light is good and darkness is evil

it’s not that simple.


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