Drums

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Warning: concerns emotional abuse.

Cover image Lana Graves on Unsplash.

Submitted: October 09, 2019

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Submitted: October 09, 2019

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Drums

 

In the distance they sounded,

a steady thump,

then erratic rhythm;

danger signals too late

to make an escape.

And these drums...

they declared war;

one that was like no other

that had come before.

The onslaught was merciless

and there in the field,

amidst the massacre

I stood;

weaponless,

defenceless.

Ah, but if only I could have stilled

my tongue;

silenced my voice,

turned my back

and denied the waging struggle

with which I was surrounded.

Instead my viper tongue

drew me in to a war,

a battle that was not mine,

and one that I was sorely ill-equipped

to fight.

Blow after blow;

words sharp as any forged blade

pierced my skin,

forced their way inside to cut,

to sever,

to slash and shred

and then leave me to stand there

invisibly bled dry.

Exsanguinated -

but that’s still not enough,

no, not for you.

You need me to fall

and leave you standing,

victor of it all.

In a mess of gore,

a killing field, I’ll remain on my feet

but finally silenced,

made dumb by the horror,

the force of the attack,

too late I’ll turn my back

and walk away.

 


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