With pieces of grass on my knees
My eyes, I squeeze
shut,
Waiting for the next fist,
To fly at me.
I can barely see.
My vision is blurry
My shins are bruised.
My nose is bloody.
My memory, muddy.
Their fists are bruised blue, and ugly.
I just wanted to feel numb freely.
So please, leave me.
I don't need you to fight for me.
YOU ARE READING
Occupational Hazard
Poetryjust a bunch of poems and other random shit that I wrote. If you have a problem with what I write, and you feel it is worth my time. Please politely bring it to my attention and we can talk about it over some virtual tea and biscuits. *Warning** So...
