Black. Blue. White.

How did I get here?
My lungs collapsed with
blood, my stomach full
of teeth, my face imprinted
with scars. You hit me--
Punches fly faster than
jet planes across a
bomb stricken sky.
This floor becomes
my safe haven, these arms
[my arms] will protect me
...for now.
Black.

How did I get here?
My breath asphyxiated
as life personifies a dream,
the pain swims through
my vein making these
bruises break into
vision. You're choking me--
Today jumps through tomorrow
holding me in last nights
torture again. My fingers
are numb as I try to
scratch a hole, an abyss,
something to wake me up
from this sea of
soreness.
Blue.

How did I get here?
My body painted like
a portrait I didn't
sign up to take. Perfectly
ruined down to my
chalky bones. This
bottle licking at my
throat. You cut me--
Words escape me like
a prisoner learning that
freedom is a fictitious
thought used only to
avoid suicide. Rigor mortis
finds me under vodka
laced glass specks, a woman
appears screaming my name,
senses terminated but the soul
lives on to tell my story.
White.

*No matter what stage abuse is never okay. There are people fighting and people that can no longer fight. I want to make sure their voices are heard.*