I will be like unto a tree, a willow, bending.
Trembling in the cold of winter,
wrapped in chains of my own making.
They are bandages that hold me together
While you strip my bark to ease your pain.
Dig your knives in, your bitter steel
The edge you turned from someone else scoring my skin
The fire of your anger and hate.
I will smother it, bark scarring
(
Read more... )