Writing

God.

 

Those loud voices send me into darkness,
the threat hidden within those words spat into her face like poisoned darts,
getting under her skin until she’s gone.

Knives, daggers, cliche crap.
Like a lethal injection, you can’t take it back.
Her self respect dissolved in your hate,
leaving her a broken shell with a barely beating heart.

You’re no God, yet you decide who lives.
Your words, your fists. Pushing her further into the ground.
If she ever escapes, she’s better off dead.

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