peaks & plains

He painted the peaks
And plains of my face a dark purplish hue,
Yet he was The One
Who sat wounded,cradling his hand,
Weeping.
Little boy lost.
“Poor baby,” I scorned,
“Poor, poor you, fucking coward,
You fucking fool”.
Cowering, I spat blood and hatred,
Sat listening
To the ringing
And the beating,
To the crying,
To the lying,
Then made my excuses.
Fucking coward, fucking fool.

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