Trash

Littered with the regret that I could become

reduced to a disposable stain on society's skirt.

kicked aside with the stench which alludes to my past,

crumbled by my own hand, crippled by my own delusions of grandeur,

glimpses of myself when I was suitable,

with dignity to master the art of being a perfect disaster.

The unforgiving wrinkles of my skin delivering lines of poetry against

an unwilling story weathered by the storms that have no end,

of judgment despite one bad decision turns into a mountain

of rubbish, disguised as gold; my goal turned into self-pity

with a form of medication that steals my teeth and rotted my face

but life is now a haze of a bearable state;

Too proud to lift my sign of, "WILL WORK FOR FOOD"

I would rather die than see the inside of your nostril as you,

scrap my last ounce of self-esteem as you toss me coins

or rather thorns, to my already bruised pride,

I try to hide as tears scream loudly, a trail of my despair.

Though sheltered, I'm not sheltered with my child

ripped from the warmth of her bed, so she doesn't see

fist hitting walls, hitting doors, breaking bones, blooded flesh,

she sees the harsh reality of protection in a space called safe.

I looked for hope once, life dangled it in front of me as if it could be obtained,

as I reached I stumbled on the shadowy surface, I now call home

it welcomes me with open arms this hard surface cold and unforgiving.

I struggle to erase the obituary of my life but after

all is erased there is still me.