school of lessons

I looked into
eyes,
darkened
to bruises
and
being thrown
as you
go blind
to concussion.

Being thrown
and strangled
by no
a stranger
but
he never knew
why
so
mischievous
your pockets.

Slapped
across
the face
for
marking
with
the wrong pen...

I made friends
with this devil
and stubborn-ed
his abuse
into the full
of witness abuse
As a child,
I never knew,
but I did
and grew...
once no obtuse.....

I used a charm
of reverse
psychology
of his anger
in the skies,
I mellowed
like ice cream
of cones......

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025



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Date: 9/6/2025 5:58:00 AM
spectacular imagery in this poem. Your poem spoke of abuse of which I am familiar...I too, mellowed like ice cream of cones...
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