deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Ink was spilt

Iíve missed writing.  
 
I miss the way the words flow from my mind into the ink on the page.
Some days I feel like Iím just another actor on this stage.
 
The stage that we call life.  
Some of us were taught to be kind,  
others were raised to carry a knife.
 
As if theyíre sending us into battle.
Kindness is a nice gift but it doesnít protect me from harm.  
What do I do when someone is grabs my arm?
Say please let go?
Sometimes I feel like I canít stand on my own.  
 
Heís tall and bulky.
Look at me.  
Iím short and stout.
You Cut me down once and now Iím letting it out.  
 
You wonít get away, without some kind of blame.
Cutting me down and slandering my name.  
 
I hate to Burst your bubble,  
But you got yourself into trouble.
When you screamed in my face at my job, a place where Iím respected!  
Itís your own fault that this was expected, of you.  
You did this the first time we met you.  
 
The worst part is I stuck up for you to get your job back,  
because I believe in second chances.  
First day back and you already made advances.
Not under any circumstances.
Will I ever give you an opportunity to take my power again.  
You may have gotten the last words,
but you're not going towin.
Written by TrueLover (Meganne)
Published | Edited 21st Nov 2023
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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