beat me,
hit me,
hurt me.
I will flinch no more.
your words are stabs that cut deeper than you meant;
every thrust is god-like, unfathomable agony;
never misses to hit where it hurts.
puddles of blood spilled from the wounds trying to heal
only to be cut open again.
your words are whips that hit like lightning;
every strike is a failed anticipation,
never misses to hit where you least expect it,
leaving bruises with an ugly mix of colors I slowly embraced
except for the pain it comes with.
your words are a poison that slowly kills;
every thought of it is torture.
the tiny droplets are unavoidable, inevitable;
it whispers like a restless ghost at night, or amid strangers —
a companion I almost believed truly existed.
see, I’m half dead with your words alone.
if your violence would end this lifelong torment,
I’d beg you to do it now.
I’ve unearthed this short entry from my notes app. I wrote this when I was at my lowest. But I am better now, at least trying to be better. :)
