Toxic

 

I had to leave, under the cover of night. Any other way

would have made me second guess my feelings for you and

I would have stayed.

You cut me deep, the wounds are still bleeding.

They won't heal. The blood a constant reminder,

along with broken bone limp.

It was hard to stand tall with the weight of

those who suffered before. Standing in line

for the next handout, from the benevolent adviser,

from those who control.

But I see you are broken too. I see through your veil,

a glimpse of your pain, of hungry nights, lonely days

and yearning for something better.

As I pick at these wounds, I see bits of you inside,

I tweeze them out with medical precision;

casting them aside for the dogs to eat.

One day the wounds will heal and the scars

will be a distant reminder.

© Charles Scott 2014