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So I sit.
Scarred eyes
In the blackness.
I stare into the hole
Knowing not of the
Colours I knew before.
I know no life
No beauty or joy.
Only blackness.
A hole created
By brash hands.
And harsh words.
Hands that once
Caressed with love,
Now beat with hatred.
In this hole I see
The truth of my naiveté
Where once I was blinded by your love.
So I turn from the darkness
And walk from your
Swaggering figure.
And I turn to the light.
So long have I been without,
It hurts my eyes.
But I walk still
And leave not as a victim
To the ways of your hands.
Never a victim.
Always and forever,
A survivor.
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Writer Profile
Amy Megsin
My name is Amanda. I am 20 year old Canadian, who tends to see things in a slightly different light than others. My poetry and writing bring out the side of myself which is normally tucked away, due to society's training. Without my writing, I would have no outlet, and therefore, would soon cease to be.
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