Crying a cry
Never mind the gruesome
scars on my face,
I've got activated bombs in my flesh.
Sympathy is all i get
and everything remains the same.
They swim in my bloody tears
to get close with a loaded AK47,
giving me directions to the next safer dungeon,
If i sieze to cry.....they will never swim again.
Do not pity this lane i tread,
I have sang this ancient song with a melody
until i become an eyesore.
Women so called,
i dine on fists and sticks.
In his drunken moments,
I become an artefact
done and to be undone by a chisel.
Let me cry this cry
for my only hope might be concealed in the next tear.
In the cosy lounge of law enforcers
only resides sympathy and deciet
for i have to go back to the perpetrator
with the same scars
and traces of tears to remind him of his victory.
Its only 'Domestic Violence' they would say
and yet you see your life
dangled nonchalantly infront of an infernow
Edward Dzonze's Other Poems
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