Anita Clark

Rookie (13/10/1989 / Falkirk)

Torn - Poem by Anita Clark

Victimised I despise, why I gave into such a compromise.
The shower runs, steam engulfs, hands tug at my dirty hair.
Hair your hands once ran through.

So I cut, razorblade so deep, into my skin where my soul bleeds.

Try to sleep but can't relax, with the quickening beat of ny once calm heart, close my eyes but you won't leave, here to poison, bittersweet dreams.
Silent tears from my blue eyes drown, your image, your clothes, your sickened mind.

An innocent mind corrupt way to young, can't turn back, I try to go on.
Your hands that tugged, pulled a my clothes.

Your shining eyes penetrate so deep, into my soul you begin to creep...
Quiet, I know that you can sleep, knowing that you got way with such a deed.

And ever since I'll cross the road, will move away 'No, no...'
But there's one thing I can't escape, a place free from time, date -memory.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 3, 2006

Poem Edited: Wednesday, May 3, 2006

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