Battle Scars
Dear You,
This is my least favorite part of my day.
I can never escape her eyes.
And my body can never escape her judgments.
"Bent, broken, barbed"
That's all she seems to say as her nails
dig into my neck
"Ungrateful, undeserving, unforgivable"
She screams it like a chant
She stares at every part of me
"Failure, filthy, foul"
I cannot escape it
She rips at my nose
"Monstrous, misunderstood, misshapen"
Her grip is too tight
as she attempts to cut my face
She knows me better than any other will
She has shackled me
Tortured me
She has thrust a dagger into my side
She continues to stare
"Rotten, reject, repulsive"
This load is too great for me to bare
She shoots my stomach with a gun
"Weary, wicked, worthless"
She tears my thighs with a knife
Her claws encircle me
I am nothing more than prey
She has snared me into her trap
"Stupid, sickening, sinister"
A spear is stabbed into my arms
Blow after blow
"Hideous, horrendous, horrible"
She strikes me hard into my gut
I am bleeding.
She finally finishes her attack.
I am wounded, hurt, and violated.
This vessel is desecrated, no longer sacred.
Peace is not a thing found here.
I walk away from the mirror.
"Until tomorrow."
(I write this for you, so that you know who your real critic is,
and that the only person who can drag you down is yourself.
Stay Strong.)
From, Me