A monster at his best
He’ll throw you through a wall and beat on his chest
Red trickles from your head
And every breath is a knife to your lungs
That steals your oxygen
Oh, but he is not done
This is just getting fun
Your hair is an anchor and his arm the links
Where to next
How about through the glass coffee table
You could try to fight it
But everyone knows you are not strong enough
That liquid strength serenades his veins
You give the ceiling a deadly stare
And wonder how you got there
You shake and bleed in your sleep
You have mastered the quiet cry tonight
You will wake surrounded by white
With an I.V. in a bed
He sits close in a chair
Asking if you’re alright
Your eyebrows fall in confusion
And there’s a hammer pounding in your brain with every heart beat
Beneath the 22 stitches that hold your head
Questions of competency swallow salty waters
There are two men in blue hats
Looking to ask you another time
“No punishment for his crime
The fault was mine”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem