by Amy Megsin
Published on: May 20, 2005
Topic:
Type: Poetry

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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