my brother
once dared
to rip the words
off the walls,
season them with salt
and hand serve them to me
on a silver platter.
salted words
on open wounds caused
warm droplets to caress my cheeks
a familiar sensation
his desired reactionin response,
i plucked the fork
from the platter
and stabbed him
in the facethe size
of the scar
i left on his cheek
pales in comparison
to those
that he left on my heart.
~ retaliation // insmniac
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men don't cry [Poetry]
Poetry[H.R. #6 - 7. 3. 18] "we wear our emotions like intricately decorated chains strung around our throats and then tuck them into our shirts" *** i sincerely hope you don't relate to any of these poems ~UPDATED DAILY~ 27/12/17 : #611 in Poetry 29/12/1...