A Dash of Violence
It was violence divided by rape minus happiness,
And it equaled control to the tenth of obsession.
All of the subtraction was done to parts of personality,
Like a hole inside the soul of a narcissist’s broken heart.
Turn the dial, speed things up, hold the vial,
While the blood fills it up and it cooks out the oxygen.
Sometimes I still can’t breathe, and I know there’s blood.
I know that it’s gone, but I still can’t look up.
Just have to add a dash of violence to my own,
Because all in all in all I deserved it and equaled up to,
Nothing.
Just have to add a dash of violence to my own.
Because it was all in all and this is out and out all for,
Nothing.
YOU ARE READING
Shattered Amour Propre
PoetryThis is a collection of some of the poems from my book, Shattered Amour Propre. There are a variety of formats made out of raw emotion. Come get stabbed in the heart, collect pollen from the flowers for a smile, and cry about the tragedies that have...
