July 2, 2011

Paths Of Red

By W.R.R.

I feel it dripping,
everywhere
and fear grips me:
I cannot feel the wounds
Eyes shut tight
with stillborn hope that he will
kill me this time
Hair twist, yank, vision blurs
choked by tears
paths of red, run warm…
not enough, never ever enough

~~~

© W.R.R. 6/30/1993

About W.R.R.

Bipolar & survivor of incest/child sex abuse and adult male rape; bisexual, polyamorist, poet/writer/advocate & married father of four. View all posts by W.R.R.
This entry was posted on Saturday, July 2nd, 2011 at 8:21 pm and posted in Poetry by W.R.R.. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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