ABSENCE WITHOUT LEAVE

Salty tears rolling down hills of turmoil and pain
Constructed image being torn apart into bits and pieces
Drums beaten yet still the sound can’t be heard
Not from afar off neither beside me.
Dada did call me his little angel
Soothed me when I cried just to make me feel better
But my life for now is in hell, and from here I write you this letter.
I am not yours to hold in contempt
Nor a trophy to show off to the world
One that shines no more, for the stars have flown down after my hopes came crashing.
For what it’s worth, the sound of your voice knows no place in my abode
This fairy-tale I lived is no more a Cinderella story
Why must you come running with those flimsy words ‘baby I’m sorry’
The words go over and over in my head like a recorded radio edit,
minus the harsh tone of your voice that caused my skin to creep inwards
as it tries to find an escape route from those knuckles that imprinted scars,
though not seen and may slowly heal but will still remain here with me.
Reminding me that you really aren’t sorry
So off I go then, don’t you worry.