Whipping Post
If you could hold words in your hand,
they would only be two things.
A whip,
with the sole purpose to destroy,
and whatever came after.
And I would be the one tied to the post.
Beaten down with each
disappointment,
and cut deeper with each
And by striking each scar with
hate,
you would be able to watch
slowly bleed out.
From my eyes, you could see
start to pour out.
And from my mouth, only
could escape.
As you stand there holding satisfaction,
I am left
again.
Susie Surmacz