Abuser.
The word always crosses my mind.
Everyday.
All day.
a never ending melody.
The thoughts pour in.
Especially while I'm alone.
But the endless words and google searches will prove that you were right.
I am an abuser.
YOU ARE READING
Strikes.
PoetryPoetry of abuse, pain and suffering. With every strike there is light at the end of the tunnel.
