Self-Exile

Venom spitting from her lips,
Her words filled with rage.
Muscles very tense,
Anger built with age.

Her threats seem more violent,
Her voice lifts with strength.
Our love is like light
With a presence so faint.

She strikes with a force
That fills me with anger.
My adrenaline rushes,
As if I am in danger.

My fists are clinched,
But I do not strike.
For I will never bring myself
To participate in such a fight.

Only this causes her more anguish
And she yearns to pain me more.
She is upset that such strikes
I can easily endure.

So she raises a weapon
With such a sharp blade
And I feel an incredible agony
Where the incision is made.

She continues to thrust
The weapon through my skin
And blood gushes from all wounds
From deep within.

I force the weapon from her
And do the same.
I can not recall the account
For I was no longer sane.

As I feel my body come to my control
My heart sinks at what I’ve done.
As my conscience awakes, my body aches
And my first urge is to run.

Run far away from there
If it be feet or it be miles.
The only way to be punished
Is my justified self-exile.

(April 12,2011)

by Devon McElveen

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.