Hurt Me

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No words I own
No thoughts alone
No wringing hand in plea
No cage have I
No rope to tie
You to your sanity

I rant till blue
I’m healing who?
Compelled to this you are
I quell, appease
I flinch to see
You tearing at your scars

He fawns and feigns
He feeds off pain
As flies are drawn to death
He pushes , pulls
He consumes all
And leaves when nothing’s left

An addicts passion
A lust to fashion
Masochistic blades
A wary smile
A painted eye
Hides fading yellow shades

This love impacts
This bomb is cracked
Patched up with broken parts
This need to please
This guilt disease
Will break your loved one’s hearts

In times of need
In sanity
When friendships have been sold
In empty rooms
Like empty wombs
There’s no one left to hold

© Dean Stephenson 2010

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