It hurt
that hand in my skin.
But what hurts more
is when you shouted

"You deserve it."

That stung more than a bee every could,
That bit harder than any rabid dog could
even dream of; if I could dream, that is.

Although now that you’ve struck me,
I no longer have dreams.

You say you’re lonely and angry
maybe that’s what you deserve
to feel at treacherous as the roughest seas.

to feel worthless.

like me.

I’m not like you though,
even though you’ve struck me
It brushes off when that
metal friend of mine paints
lovely pictures with my skin.

Then I am happy.
and you are happy.
and although it hurt.
I suppose it all works out.

But that’s not what either of us
"deserve."