Loud
A Poem About the Aftermath (of Abuse)
By Wandering WaytaPublished 6 years ago • 1 min read
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Loud
LOUD
L O U D
everything is too loud.
His fists rattle my brain with the same rhythm
his screams beat my eardrums.
His memory scraps the edges of my mind,
twisting and scratching until my head is
raked raw.
It's a dull ache now, a numb pounding that
only I can see. Except I can't, because it is
only inside of me.
And then it
Rains
RAINS
R A I N S
clearing my tear ducts of all debris. It
washes away the aftermath for a while,
until it just won't be held in anymore. And
then it's
Loud.
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About the Creator
Wandering Wayta
Hey friends! I’m a college student just looking for ways to share my voice. Writing is an outlet and I just hope that somewhere in my works you find light. Jesus is the light in me❤️
#freeandabove
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