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Don't ask me why I look this way
Because I can't say.
But I'm hoping that
One way or another, my story will be told.
Can you hear the choking whispers
of the bruises ornamenting my arms?
Can't you catch the coarse rumors
That spill from my scabbed over face?
And there's no way you could ignore
My puckered mouth, which speaks
Not with a voice, but
With its swollen lips.
Oh please, excuse my unscathed ears
There is no blemish,
But these ears know a music
I pray you'll never be forced to hear:
The crescendo of a wooden bat,
Harmonizing with the splintering of bones
And a cacophony or roars
As the melody to my moans.
And I promise, that's not all
My entire body's become a canvas
Painted with harsh indigo, violent violet
Rainbows that represent pain
And memories I never want to
Remember again.
But please listen
To the pleas of my injuries
Because they'll say, shout, scream
Everything that
I
Can't
Say.
 Deoxyribose Dollface · Fri Jul 24, 2009 @ 05:14pm · 0 Comments |
