A stinging pain
An open cut
Bruised knuckles
And red eyes
Reminders of last night

Last night when I punched a cardboard box to death
It’s a poor girl’s punching bag
It works

The dull, thudding beat of my fists
Accentuated by tears dropping and dripping
To the floor
And the stray stifled sob
That breaks free
And embarrasses me