Scarred

Your weapon of choice,
formed by your harsh tongue.
The most hurtful shots,
fly straight through my lungs.


Leaving me breathless,
shakes me to my core.
Dismiss my emotions,
by slamming their doors.


Your ego so strong,
it eats at my soul.
I try to hold on,
but give up control.


My mind is all bruised,
along with my heart.
Too strong to let go,
too weak to depart.


Alone in the cold,
no where else to be.
No money for food,
afraid of the streets.


Fearful to go home,
I already left.
Slowly walking back,
with stones in my chest.

– Grace Y. Estevez


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