Bruises and Blacks // Presents and Pasts

by WildChild

I thought I had it, I thought I could grasp it.  A mirage of broken humans stood in the way of my life proceeding to happiness.  Year after year there’s someone new, someone past and someone dead.   Bruises and blacks (my body my back),  pain and anger (my heart my head), those who ruin my life in ways that put me in a maze of hell.


A half of me, now a strict passerby and a past.  A controlling human, with power to keep me as his own.  I am not his. I will never be his as the rest, I am my own and refuse to be put down.

My mind, my strength, doesn’t fade.  These calls are a facade and a pathetic attempt to tame the tamed.