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ACCUSER

To A. C.

By Mescaline BrissetPublished 3 years ago Updated 2 years ago 1 min read
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Photo by Cosmin Mindru on Unsplash

My landlord came around today

With all the glory of a conman

Swelteringly struttin’, shamblin’ gait

Until goin’ through the roof to squeeze

The hell out of him

He didn’t stop by to converse with me

He just came around to see

My room

To judge it by appearance

He didn’t have the time to visit it for four years

That’s enough time to swear

Comin’ up with false evidence, sowin’ a seed of hate

Spittin’ in my face

Shoutin’, sneerin’, scornin’

With all his tenants givin’ a report

That I’m the cause

Of their leavin’

Creatin’ somethin’ in my head

A drawer for all the lies he had said

Never worryin’ about the consequences

Never worryin’ about talking to others

About me whilst I could hear

To dig his dagger deeper, like the other people did

Family, friends, lovers I never had

Just the poor imitation of all of them

Paintin' a picture of true despair

Happenin’ to me right here, right now

Although I’m finally leavin’, yet with major scars

All over my body

Which you cannot see, they’re invisible, so nobody knows

About this violence executed on my soul

How could this have happened?

I’ve seen it all time long, but my mouth was closed

Bein’ alone against animals

Accused that I’m the one to blame

But I have done nothin’ wrong

An artist without a voice, is it still art?

I think it’s better than creatin’ somethin’ of no value

The arabesque of the abusers’ abilities

Which will be judged anyway

From above

*

14 June 2021

***

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Mescaline Brisset on my Vocal profile. The art of creation never ends.

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About the Creator

Mescaline Brisset

if it doesn't come bursting out of you

in spite of everything,

don't do it.

unless it comes unasked out of your

heart and your mind and your mouth

and your gut,

don't do it.

so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski

Find me on Medium

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