Your words are like paper cuts.
Quick slice,
Sharp pain,
Persisting sting.
But you always say you love me.
Harsh words turn into vague threats.
Those threats turn into solid blows.
But you still say you love me.
One more time,
Then I’m done.
With satisfaction, I pull the trigger.
*Do you still love me?

Sequel to my poem A Mourner's tale

Her days turned darkness, as evil taunted her soul
Shattered she stood as the night fought her
Harrowing it was when time stood still
Fearful it were when he held her down
as he took away her reason to smile again
In a journey of ten minutes he took away her dreams alongside her innocence

There was no morning too bright to elude this darkest plight
There was no one to hold her again
No reason to smile
No light too bright

And then

I say

It was blinding how the sun pierced into her damaged soul
And when night came, she could not feel,
She could not see

It was shattering
It was shattering how pieces of her couldn't be mended again
And how these pieces spread beyond her life
It was shocking

It was shocking how her own mind questioned her existence
And how she lived through life, existing, but not living
It was monstrous*

It was monstrous how men could damage a flower so pure and beautiful
And how they go on damaging more flowers,
Crushing them and eluding them all of their innocence
It was blackening