poetry

Abuser

I’m not meant to be loved
I was designed to be abused
Used as your toy
In this game of life

Standing tall by myself
The world will never allow
I am breaking my design
Fatal error recovery protocol engaged

I was made to be a product of your anger
Designed to be a failure you can control
Your grasp never letting me go
No matter how hard I’ve tried to break free

The shackles you placed still holding me steady in place
The chains growing tighter with each attempt of escape
Blood and skin that have detached wrap around the steel
Bones and muscle only left exposed on my ankles

Designed to be your prisoner
Life with no chance of parole is my sentence
Watching life pass me by while locked in one place
The abuse I endure only getting greater by the day

I no longer know what it is like to be on the outside
What is life outside of this torment
Does the sun still rise, and the sun still set
Or does blood pour from darkened skies

Are rivers and lakes still blue
Or are they littered with the bodies and blood of those lives you have taken
Can birds still sing in the mornings
Or have you erased all sense of time for everyone in society

Years and days pass like the hours ticking on a clock
Blood pouring out of my self-inflicted wounds in attempts to escape from you
Unsure if freedom exists anymore I want to leave this world
For my death is the only way I will be free from your grasp

©Writing the Rose

©Sarah Do

©writingtherose.com

15 March 2020

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