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Imbalanced
November 10, 2016
She called upon me like a wrecked child,
one with eyes like burning fire.
Torment as if I was the defiled.
An imbalanced, imperfect child.
I'm not her cup of tea,
not her absinthe.
Twisting my words,
and beating me down.
A manipulative breakthrough.
Skin ached, black and blue.
A mother,
a broken child.
Getting her fix off
of my pain.
My emotions are piled.
An imbalanced, imperfect child.
© Mary A., Fullerton, CA
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I was listening to Face Down by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, that's what really inspired me to write this. It's a great song, and it goes well with this piece. I just hoped it would help others who may be going through something similar, and for them to realize that they're not alone.