Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member

Members

wolfbiter
VannesaBiter

Poems

Jawad  May 2017
HAND BITER
Jawad May 2017
How does it taste
My hand...?
The hand that fed you...!
You have been chewing on it
Through and through
For a while now...

The hand that hurts
From providing...
So much
That it came close to breaking
Just to protect you
From starving

The hand that hurts
And shakes
So much
That I can't even eat with it anymore
And as such
Will remain
Hungry
And probably die

I'm angry

I am angry with you
But the worst thing is
That I can't hate you
Because hating somebody you love
Hurts even more

I am angry
Because in my core
I was sure that you would do that
And all I did was
Ignore...
And you thought I didn't have a clue?
I gave you the cue
For this to happen
And I didn't pull my hand
And accepted for it to remain soar
Full of marks from your bites
And the endless nights
Of providing..
For such a long time
Telling myself
It’s fine
Because the bite
Of somebody you love
Is sweet
As honey

But now you are full
And it doesn't matter if I pull
Or leave my hand there
For you to take a last bite
You are just waiting for the fight
So that you can run away
And never look at me again

How does it feel
To be a traiter
How does it taste?
Bitter?
Only my tongue
My hand is sweet

Hand biter...!
Helping somebody who doesn't deserve it, is really bad. Falling in love with somebody who doesn't love you, is even worse. The worst is to help somebody you love but who doesn't love you back while you know in your heart that it is wrong, but nevertheless do it, because you love being in love...

But the absolutely worst is to love somebody who doesn't love you, and helping her so much on your own expense so that you can't even help yourself anymore and are in trouble now because of her, and she is waiting for a confrontation so that she has an excuse to never speak to you again.
wolfbiter  Jun 2014
wolf biter
wolfbiter Jun 2014
It’s a constant knot in my gut

And lump in my throat
,
I’m always stuck between the feeling

Of either bursting into tears or throwing up
.
And my chest feels like it’s either caving in 

Or being torn apart

And I worry about the permanent damage

Left behind by the war between my head

And my heart.

I keep my hands balled into fists to keep anyone from seeing

My dull jagged nails and torn cuticles that never stop bleeding

Due to the hours I spend tearing at my skin.

Maybe I’ll rip enough away to let some of the sickness spill out

And the sunlight spill in.

The doctors called me a wolf biter, due the way that I chew and I tear 

At the flesh that surrounds each of my fingernails.
The same way a wolf gnaws on the flesh of its prey

Using its nails and its teeth to shred the outer shell away.

I back myself into a corner and paralyze me with fear

Then turn around and destroy the body keeping me here.
Maybe soon I'll peel back all my skin

And make myself disappear.
A wolf biter, because I allow myself to simultaneously become

Both the hunted, running scared, and the hunter out for blood.