They’ll Learn Her Real Name
But it’s the last lesson they’ll ever learn
Her heart is broken, totally unfixable, shattered,
As life has thrown her nothing but curve ball after curve ball,
She’s the next batter up, but still she swings and misses,
Feeling the ball crunch, destroying all it hits, before it falls.
***
There’s a hole deep within her psyche, one that grows bigger every year,
A missing piece of the puzzle, oh no, make that two,
Large pieces that are only holding on at the very edges,
Where once her love was brightly shining and anew.
***
She is crushed to smithereens,
Jarred from every hit and miss,
Lost the innocence of her childhood,
Stolen, brutally torn, from her with a single biting kiss.
***
She’s cut, blade by blade, by each lesson life has tortured her with,
Smashed at the knees until she falls at life’s feet,
Battered by experience, tortured by the need to make things right,
Scorched from the raw and bloody heat.
***
She reaches out a begging hand,
Giving them the option to help her stand tall,
But life is funny, the hand is ignored,
And again and again she’s struck until once more she will fall.
***
As she grovels in the dirt,
Walked on and over by a thousand different feet,
She’s battered, bruised, bloody but determined,
As she will feel one hand grappling for her, a decent one to meet.
***
Her blood now runs cold, ice flourishing deep within her veins,
She’s risen, fortified by the gutter she’s spent so much time getting to know,
Armoured against those torturers, the giddy tormenter,
Those ingrates that have birthed her inner commando.
***
They live their lives, never believing they are in any danger,
But they under estimated this female combatant,
Now she’s on the war path, no prisoners is her ruling,
As they made her this way, their very own destructive patent.
***
Not that they ever believed she had the strength,
To beat them at their own bloody disastrous game,
But she’s the very definition of their world ending,
And once she’s finished, they’ll know nothing more than her real name!
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****
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
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Originally posted on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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