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The Punching Bag

A Poem

By Angel AdagioPublished 10 days ago Updated 10 days ago 1 min read
3

You and I are the same,

we get beaten up for pleasure.

We are hung by a rope or a chain,

dangling in the air waiting for every punch to be the last,

until it keeps repeating endlessly and soon enough we break.

Then we are replaced without a second thought,

our corpse is then destroyed and placed within a shiny new one,

not knowing the memories of its insides being beaten down to a pulp.

The cycle continues.

We are used, abused, broken, and restored over and over again.

All for the pleasure of others.

Who knew a human and a punching bag could be one in the same.

Mental Healthsad poetry
3

About the Creator

Angel Adagio

Thank you for taking the time to read some of my work. It may not be perfect, but it's real. I hope you'll stay a while.

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Comments (1)

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  • Dharrsheena Raja Segarran10 days ago

    This was so poignant and relatable as well. Hope you are okay. Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️

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