Red screams fill my blue skies,
Anguish overflows these tortured eyes.
In my world of truth
There’s a river of hurt left by you.
Cut me, and I bleed down to the bone,
Stitched-up heart with broken-glass hope.
Leave me here upon that desolate shore,
To live, to love, nevermore.
Let the ravens come now and pick me dry,
No more living in a world built on your lies.
Beyond love’s desire-colored veil,
Beyond your reach, there I will dwell.
*I always say that words have power…and some words are meant to cut deep. I’ve found that, once the invisible “blood” has dried, there’s an emptiness, a hollowness, a numbness that descends upon you. Whether it’s a respite for healing or simply limbo until the next verbal offense comes, I don’t yet know. But that’s where you can find me tonight.
The Well Tempered Bards 
A state of hurt so effectively evoked – thank you, Jessica.
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Thank you, sir.
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
Jessica Scott gives a poem of a special sort of pain.
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Somehow you must protect yourself from the next onslaught of verbal abuse. Do not heal your wounds, then wait. Get off the roller coaster. Verbal abuse cuts deep. I know. My mother could be vicious.
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I’m working on it.
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Awesome poem, I must add. You evoked the feelings well.
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Thank you.
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