Walking With Scars

with your hand around my throat and
my eyes fading
grey edges burning in and taking over
colors mute
and for a split second all becomes clear

you pour out all your wrath
and vehemence on my broken body
the cracks and fractures
and crushed windpipe
physical evidence
of your emotional maelstrom

spit and tobacco
flecks across my face
as you spew your impotency

I quit fighting a long time ago
because you overpower me every time
and I fear I will never break free
you may be physically strong
but you are mentally weak

a laugh bursts from my lips but
it sounds like a drowning gurgle

you may be able to break my body
but in my mind
I’ve stabbed you a thousand times
even as you shove implements of horror
(glass shards beneath my nails
and metal shavings in my feet
)
pushing your vile filth deep inside me
to hide the flaccid truth of you

I will never forget
how pathetically impotent you are
even after they’ve chopped you to pieces
and scattered your depraved soul
before the dingos

I will be walking with scars
but at least
I will be the one still walking


tara caribou | ©️2018

*please remember, this work has nothing to do with or about or towards the blogger mentioned, simply that I used their blog name/title/tagline as a writing prompt.


Simone doesn’t follow my blog but I love her frank honesty and lovely prose. She’s one I so wish posted more often because her words touch my soul. ~tara #mygifttoyou

12 thoughts on “Walking With Scars

  1. Well this certainly has the vibe of sweet, bloodsoaked revenge – even if at a more cosmic level. The entire “triumph by way of existence” was as vicious as it was so much more fulfilling than anything physical. Wow. I had shivers.

    Liked by 1 person

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