beat
Beaten and broken he left me on the floor, where I sit surround by the wounds he left on even my heart. I cant stand to walk out of the room. To gather my thoughts . To tell him to stop. To grab my things.
So I stay on the floor with him hitting my back and spitting his words at me. Tears they don't matter there just there. The wounds they hide the way I feel . The temper I not let out for the fear and the doubt, he touches my hair and pulls it tight , and tugs it still like the bit on my skin. The wound still there for the terror that is there , I feel it last just like the glass on my leg and the blood from the mirror that he broke to show me myself the way he sees me . The truth he says is there. The lie is what I see inside of me. He tells me that I am not me . That I need not have what I see. The wound that sits on me is great not small like he tells me I am.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.