Scarlet wasteland

Abuse; the absolute scarring of the mind
Heavy is the weight of inconsistencies
that tweak the order of how we’re wrought
Reared into beings with inner quarrel
we are inept to challenge the rinds we are given
We are strangers in our own skin
Milestones reached with the tether of discord
constantly adjusting to the elasticity of its misalign
Unsuitable venue to stifle our imaginings
laughter replaced by the gloom
My mother labelled me a liar
She was abundant in venom
The viscous liquid clings to me
like sugar on a child’s tongue
Thoughts scattered
emotions cluttering the vessel
Eyes. Wide. Open
viewing everything with a jaded lens
Simmering, is the tang of love
flavoured by the breadth of her singe
There’s an expectation of forgiveness
Yet blood shouldn’t suffocate the ripening
Breathless—
I waver in the forenoon platitudes
that interpret this skewed sense of self worth
Knowing I was never loved is complex and disabling
It breeds questions without answers
It shrivels the soul
It leads to mystification of oneself
Who was I supposed to be?
What should I’ve become?
I’m fasting from exuberance
Switching the align to aggrandize its depths
I am the scarlet wasteland