by Mallory Martin
I’ll give you a reason to whimper.
This neglect has caused me enough pain,
and you are the only one to blame.
Who’s pointing fingers now?
How does it feel being the one to bow?
This is for the bruises,
and I’m not listening to your excuses.
This is for the blood;
you’re going to wish I gave you a chance to run.
This is for the pain,
and for the lost time that I will never regain.
This is a promise, not a threat.
I told you this is what you’d get.