Standing in front of the mirror, in fear of what's staring back, I raise a hand up to my face, and touch the bruises and cuts that cover my otherwise clear skin. A sting of pain, and I pull back. Fresh tears well up in my eyes, threatening to fall.
Oh my love, why must you do this? Why must you take your anger out in such ways? Now I feel broken, and I cannot show my face for it is scarred with your anger. You tend to make me wonder, if I am merely your punching bag, but the moment you say you love me, all of those thoughts go down the drain, and I run into your arms only to have you push me to the ground.
Why do I stay? Why must I still have feelings for you?
I do not know, maybe it's fear for being alone once again, but what I do know, is the dangers you put me in.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Poetry
ŞiirJust a bunch of my writings, usually dark but there are a few bright ones hidden in there somewhere... I hope you enjoy!
