I’m being choked by the words that I know eventually must come out
...
Breathless
...
I drown in my darkest despairs
I can’t think.
I can’t talk.
But I can hit.
I can punch.
And I can slap pretty hard too.
I’ll let my hands do the talking
I give them the pleasure of doing what his wish they could.
Rounding up, repetitive whacks to the face
I feel nothing
…
So I continue with the blows until I do.
The ringing of rage pierces my ears
Hate lingers in their canals, whispering sweet songs of sorrow
My hands gently glide through my gnarled strands of hair
Each finger trembling,
caressing my bumped and bruised scalp
“How can someone make me hate me so much?”