Spite

What motivates you?

Spite
motivates me
to put
one foot
in front of
the other,
to claw
my way back up
from the ground
when you thought
I was finished.

It is roots
cracking
pavement
to bare
soil,
thorns
of the flower
that refuses
to be
torn up
from the earth.

Spite
is a feral thing,
like an animal
caught
in a snare;
it refuses
to
submit
to.

It sharpens
my teeth,
ready
to tear
through
the straps
that
would
hold
me
down.