Drugstore Perfume [Poetry]

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july31twenty21

(a/n: this never got posted. the words just ran dry. violence/slight gore tw)

childhood fun with a knucklehead isn't safe at night, isn't safe at home. learned to fight before learning to speak. DNA rage in the parking lot, in the locked up room, bloody fingers. feels like lies caked up inside your soul. the commercial ended and I was still five years old, dragged off set.

picked up quick to hide until trouble approached, grabbed a sword and fought and cried. another foolish martyr for the war (that nobody else got to see). the pain still sears and new wounds appear every day, just like clockwork.