Sunday, December 31, 2017




Can a pin cushion wear out?
With your God I have no clout.
He keeps poking and sticking, abandoning the pins in.
Leaving bitter reminders of where I have been.
There's some empty spaces left if you maneuver.
The love is gone what's left is only a reprover.
He has been through so much pain.
Hitting him harder what do you have to gain?
Let him alone.
Lend him your throne.
Stability is what  he needs.
He's only human of course he bleeds.
His heart is damaged beyond repair.
But you keep on poking through his despair.
Fair?
Of course not you. You taught me at 8.
Teaching me that Hell is my only fate.
God he is begging down on his knees. 
His mom is crying while you ignore her pleas.
You enjoy using me as your muse.
Leaving no marks a pin prick, no bruise.
Will you be satisfied when you have it all?
School me once again, you are the almighty and I am so small.
I have no power. You have stolen it from me.
I am blind. I am deaf and now I can't speak.
The carnage around is deep and it reaks.
I call uncle. I submit
I never thought that would happen. I'll admit.

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