Wounds

Words leave scars.

I’ve lived inside a steel twisted cage;
barbed with wire, cutting the wrists,
never grasping the words on your page,
crumpled in my crimson-dripping fists.

I’ve heard your monstrous mouth screaming
the unbearable things which tore me apart.
Sometimes I've pretended to be dreaming
with each stabbing that pierced my heart.

I’ve endured scrapes from your vicious claws
and the malice that your hands have thrown,
knowing in my heart there's no permissible cause
for the perpetual hatred your eyes have shown.

I’ve searched to find a tranquil place,
somewhere I could rest my wounded mind,
to escape from the death and disgrace,
and for these callous shackles to unwind.