Hit by hit
My body grows weaker
Like a tree that was just hit by a string of lighting, I can hear the snapping of my already broken bones
The pain is numbing my mind, body and soul
It is overwhelming but I blame myself for the matter
Forever and always will it be my fault
YOU ARE READING
Strikes.
PoetryPoetry of abuse, pain and suffering. With every strike there is light at the end of the tunnel.
