March 25

How?

How?

 

How does one make it stop?

How do you keep them from hurting you?

I run till I drop

But they keep getting through

 

You get lulled into a false sense of security

you think you are safe

you let go of your purity

and find that it only chafes

 

I am battered

I am betrayed

get in line

only to  be dismayed.

 

Won’t you let me go?

can’t I be free?

am I allowed to say no?

or am I succor for your greed?

 

Will you or any man ever admit his faults?

can I believe you when you speak?

I cannot jump all the vaults

only to come to the end and be meek?

 

Don’t you dare love me you traitor

You are not allowed to speak

I am cut as if by an abattoir

and I begin red blood to leak

 

You are not allowed my succor

you are not given my feast

you are cast adrift without pucker

and lacking courage of the very least

 

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Posted March 25, 2020 by Charlotte Von Woffle Greer in category "All of Charlotte's Poetry", "Hurting When I Write

About the Author

From Review: "Charlotte Von Woffle Greer is an artist in the truest sense of the word. Tormented, embattled, strong, fearless and fearful. Curious, and full of wonder yet jaded and defeated at times. An artist shares what they feel. A true and brave artist shares what they feel completely as Charlotte does, in these pages." -Erik Johnson