Gaol for the wretched
Inmates who shout and slam
Ball fists, raised high,
Brought down upon the bars
Encircling the riff raff.
Roaring loudly of their humiliation,
Incensed at their circumstances…
Sadly, it’s their own noise which
Hinders understanding and empathy.
I’m weary waking,
cold and shaking.
No dreams or wishes
nor morning kisses.
Release
Unshackled, unchained
Shaking, shuddering, rising
The Beast is free!
Howling, grunting, moaning
Passionate, primal
Release
Just before they faltered,
they turned away the night –
vindicated in their faith
by the coming of the light.
(photo prompt courtesy of the lovely weakmeatstrongeat)
That day,
you remember?
When I just stepped aside
and let you walk away from me?
That day.
The force of the blow
that knocked me to my knees and
took my breath away.
Her life was defined
by boundaries of blood,
borders as blinding crimson
as the scars she carried.
Menses…
Virginity lost…
The night he beat her for saying “No.”…
The self-inflicted wounds after they took her daughter from her.
The ocean of blood
she has waded through
has long since taught her
to “Never say ‘never’.”
He measured his words
like he did coffee grounds and
used them as often.
The pitter, patter of their feet
pounding daily on the street
and the weight of all the soles
stumbling through their grim patrols
cut a pattern of deep scars
which still bled, even in their cars.
A (wise) man of two faces 