Sure, Thanks, I am Fine

Bruises

Again, I find myself on the ground.
I have not fallen, I was pushed down.
There were many of them, I lost count.
All authority looked the other way,
as everyone around me ruined my face.
They punched and kicked and said mean words,
I couldn't fight back, I feel absurd.
I leave and clean myself up,
promising that next time I will win.
But alas, my victory was lost.
I did nothing to them,
yet they persue me with hatred.
I wish this would end,
I wish I was safe.
I go throughout the rest of my day,
wincing and groaning from the pains.
"One day," I tell myself,
"One day I will overcome these demons.
I will someday be a free woman."
But freedom is not so easily bought.
Nor is it so freely given.
Every dream and wish I've ever had is so far gone.
I will never truly be safe.
And for that I have myself to blame.
Because as long as I have pain,
I have feeling.
But what do I have when all feeling escapes me?
Betrays me?
Do I run, do I flee?
Do I let go, and make myself free?
No. I live my life unsafe,
with bruises no one else can see
all over my body and my face.