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Melodies weaving tragedies on tightrope bones
As I  cross the scar tissue bridge my grief reverberates
Lacerating the fabric of my beliefs
Fingers dancing across the ribs of truth
The sternum of strength
Gritting my teeth whenever I think of you
Hollowed out heart
Whiskey hot on my lips, where you use to be
Your still my favorite taste
A tinge of you still exists
The fingertips of my mind are asleep  
As I consume the spoon of my wrongs
The dusty razors braid into my veins
Echoes swirling scars uprooting my flow
Mentally caging me
I was fine, in one piece
You sought to paralyze me, though I thrived  
*******, blackened eye
*******, broken teeth
*******, bloodied face
Running from myself inside of my head ,and there is no room left
My heart is my diary, under lock and key
Your tounge is your  noose
My indignation is your gallows
I keep my head down and my mouth shut
You speak only when spoken to , I have nothing to say
I cleared the table and head into my room I fall asleep
I hear him approach the bed
I'm so warm, my blanket is soft
His eyes are gray with a hint of green, cinnamon colored hair
I have memorized the top of his head ,every crease every hair
His face is thin, I think he is tired
He smells musty , but he always taste sweet
I hate him but I don't want him to leave
As he takes off his pants he places my hand on his man spot
I was so unsure what to do with it
  I'm getting better he is a good teacher
I roll it between my fingers it's warm and growing
It always wants a kiss my mouth is small I do my best
His hands hold my head tight it hurts
I get so confused when he makes these sounds. He sound's so angry. When he is done he leaves me for the night
I lie rubbing myself against the pillow Confused to why do I feel like this?
My heart beats so fast and I wonder if Daddy will be back?
He is a good dad we go outside and play
He has taught me how to write and read he is so proud of me
I'm special and I get special treats
I set the table where having company
I have a new dress and feel so cute
The woman of the house since mom passed away
It's  hard to remember  the rules I don't like him ,mad, my bones hurt when bruised
Don't eat until Fathers sitting down at the table that is one not to forget As we all sit down to eat, I clench my tiny hands hiding my secrets  under there
My heart goes out to all children who have suffered this abuse. Tragic and sick I did this so quick I did not edit it
This is a contest I joined it is a photo not a poem. But if you have time would you vote? It is for a cover of Michigan's Keweenaw Peninsula magazine. My photo is Secure Tranquility you don't even have to vote for me there are some beautiful photos on here.   You can vote daily and share it with others contest ends Feb 8th. Michigan's Keweenaw Peninsula Cover Contest. You can find it by going to Michigan's Keweenaw Peninsula on Facebook then clicking on KeweenawCoverContest.
In the Upper Peninsula we have six months or more of winter so poetry and photography is my outlet. If this is breaking any HP rules please let me know I will remove it. To me this photo is poetic
It is my profile picture but without color its hard to see the beauty in the Fall leaves.
Insomniac neurons sailing through disillusioned lungs
Gorging on ******* limbs and uneven swallows
Pungent toxins confined on a land mine of intuition
Rupturing ****'s nesting into my grief
Vomiting up my own desolation's
I have not sleep in 2 days so forgive my grammar.
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