Bruises.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Not much to it...Just a peom

Submitted: February 16, 2012

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Submitted: February 16, 2012

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You think you're such a man,

being the "parent" and being in control.

How is beating a helpless child so grand?

You don't even deserve the parenting roll.?

 

I wake up in the mornings frightened to get up.

Will there be more marks to come,

More being handled rough?

I just wish I could run.

 

The blows come, no time for flight.

I am marked in an array of colors,

black, blue, gray, orange and yellow

all cover my skin. It's just not right.

 

I am a disastrous rainbow,

the colors mar my skin,

I look deformed. I would cry for

the thought that I'm ugly,

But I'm too focused on the pain those colors bring.

 

I can't take it anymore,

I just want to give in.

The colors that once were beatiful,

now mark a wretched sin.

 

I waited and waited,

anticipating that one number.

I knew that when it came,

I wouldn't be ruled by you and the colors.

It came and now I'm gone,

 

My past is covered in bruises,

but my future is as beautiful as can be.


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