December 16, 2022

Woes & Waterfalls

Then, like the coward he was 
Disbanded the apex of my cranium
Succumbed me to the untimely pendulum
Of his clenched fists
To split my forehead in two 
Cut me down
In a gust of wind
To not assert even a whisper 
Of improper common sense 

“HIS DANDER WOULD SUFFICE TO SHATTER ME INTO SHARDS OF HARROWING”

 

I bled from the cusp of my hairline 
With fractures made of torn flesh
Just beneath the surface of my muffled dialogue 
Out of earshot 
Came with a flame 
The sedative silence
As the blood spewed out of me
Down the narrow of my gaze 
Unto my billowy cheeks
In a burst of woes and waterfall 


His dander would suffice 
To shatter me into shards of harrowing 
To deem my candour unnecessary 
Resolute the forthrightness 
To not be outspoken 
Under any circumstance 
Bereaved me to be left abandoned 
At the spring of my adolescence 
Breath of death

Emerged his violent tongue

Of earsplitting fingerspelling
In the morning did the wrath weaken
With strength made of small voices 

With egos made of unclean hands

Enwreathed in bandage and brutal force
With scars endured  
Of his own turbulent unrest 
Bedfast in his antiquated chains
Allow me the length and breadth

Of unrestricted conversation 
For freedom seemed so far away 

 

 

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