grasp. livin’ with abusers in my head.
when I spilled the tea again, all buggin’ bounced back…
I’m disengaged
all connections misconduct themselves
cryin’ is like drinkin’
you’ll never get enough
until you’re deep down
on the ground
tryin’ to gather your belongings
into one smart basket not belongin’
to you at all
when your name became
the sound of abuse
how can I
overcome this now?
when I hear my name
I can hear voices crackle
far from kindness
although the goodness
has been falsified
to an enormous extent
to alleviate the stench
of any abuse
that happened to me
worth the trophy
for its speculation
screamin’
on all sides
prepared, perplexed
with abomination
of my little figure
always addled and in awe
of meticulously strip points
meant to hurt me severely
indelibly
leavin’ marks
allowin’ me to remember that
and not relive it
to the case of not livin’
my current life
in the state I’ve always wanted
yet with a shadow of abuse
beleaguerin’
my inner child
heavily injured
in these wars
“this time
I will protect you
this will not happen again
whatever it was will never be the same”
all the persons in me now
are adamant
to fight foreign foes
and come out clean in knowin’
that the abusers will still abuse
for it is their bread to eat
undefined, undercover undercurrent
of their excised leakage
“pick it up while you can
because it’s never too late
to stop
this narcissistic cycle of abuse!”
but I doubt any of them
could consciously comprehend
what I’m talkin’ about here
*
August – September 2022
***
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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
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