Flesh and Bone
Was I a bit too real for you
too raw, like meat bleeding on the butcher’s block
too honest like an angel
as I stripped the skin from my flesh
flesh from my bones
put every prickling nerve on display
every taut tendon
Did it frighten you to learn the truth
of what lies beneath the searing burns and scars
below the surface as if I’ve been lashed
by the thorny branches of a honey locust tree
Did you find yourself choking on your rank hypocrisy
Your pathetic platitudes about love
empty mewlings about empathy
as you stand there stolidly silent
setting yourself apart from all the nobodies
behind your walls, your fences to protect your privacy
when you know damn well their true purpose is to prevent
what you don’t want intruding
in your perfect fantasy of champagne soirees
your loafers polished to a high shine
black mirrors in which you can see yourself
instead of us, instead of me
From those festering wounds my words come
the poetry I pen, the rhymes I wrangle, the worlds I write
searching for a guiding light
someone to share this journey
Copyright © Angela Douglas | Year Posted 2021
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