Saturday, 12 March 2011

The Art of Pain (Nina.S 12.03.11)

 My Body Splattered,
Pink, purple and blue shades.
Something like Mardi Gras,
Except not so joyous.
Nothing to celebrate,
Just solitude and silence.
A forceful blow to my eye,
Was a surprise.
Didn't see it coming,
Like a tiger attacking its prey.
Is it still in tact as it's numb?
Protruding like the new earth after a quake.
Squeezing my neck tight,
Desperate to take air.
Let go I say!
But my voice is mute.
Holding me firm,
But not in a loving way.
A fierce punch to my head,
Am I still alive?
Immense agony am sure to faint.
Amazingly am conscious,
Although sickened with pain.
When will you stop and feel remorse?

Hurling me to the floor,
Tears streaming down my face.
kicked in the ribs,
Like rubbish in the gutter.
Somebody help me.
Shaking and shivering from anguish.

The heavy weight of abuse,
Crushes me a little more each time.
Inihilated in every aspect of my life.
How did I become a non-person?
My self-worth shattered into a  thousand pieces.
Hopeless to repair.
Piercing words still haunt me,
Worthless, worthless, worthless!
"Words can never hurt me."
Derogatory names, profanity and insults,
Of course this hurts like a jagged knife in my heart.
Walking on eggshells is the norm.

Tomorrow is another day,
Don't care anymore.
Happy or not,
Am immune to misery.
Bruises are obvious,
But I am creative.

As time passes by,
Lower and lower as I sink,
And you finally break me.
I am no longer the child my parents knew.
My spirit has vanished.
No love for life or the will to live.

And you say you love me ...

1 comment:

  1. Excellent piece!
    You have painted a very vivid picture of abuse and phony, controlling love. It sickens me to imagine this brute. I hope & pray this is not an autobiography.