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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