Anger, with its septic tongue, licks at my already weeping wounds. Its sharp fangs graze across my flesh, threatening to take another bite. I want to run, flee from your torment.
“Just let me be!”
But my pleas are muffled by the raging winds which hurl and swirl in my deafening ears, reducing me to floods of tears.
Amidst the thunderous storm of your ever increasing temper, shards from what was once loves chalice, hurtle towards me like a whirlwind, ready to spit out all it has harvested from its short existence. And like shrapnel, these little shards pelt at my depleted body. Some merely scrape at my flesh, others bury deep, causing cavities which weep and ooze out more pain.
Blinded by your rage you don’t give in, forcing a torrent of debris to rush at my defenceless body. Battered and bruised my soul whispers to my heart.
Don’t give up
Stand
Rise above