I bit the hand that fed me.
I bit through the bone.
I bit until I tasted blood.
Clamped teeth, holding down until the jagged movements stopped.
The stillness bringing a calm I had never known existed.
Loyal dogs don't question scraps.
They ignore the rumbling in their stomachs. Ignore rough hands and harsh words.
Loyal dogs are loyal until their jagged movements stop, but a beat dog is only loyal for so long.
Until the scraps turn into empty bowls.
Soft rumbling, turning to hollow aching.
You're lucky it was only your hand.
You're lucky I didn't go for the throat.
YOU ARE READING
The diary of Seth Alexander
ПоэзияI write to cope with life, so maybe this might help someone else cope too, idk. Trigger warning for suicidal ideation, S/A, and Abuse. There's not many mentions of them directly as this is more about my emotions and moments of reflection, all neatl...
