Malicious words thrown across the room
Aimed at my well-being
The main event at this circus
They’re the ringmaster and mistress
I’m a dependent human target in distress
My spirit’s punctured, bleeding
The crowd’s yelling for my freedom
My psyche is speeding
Thinking about what I’m needing
Crying because I’m reaching
For an outlet
But I can’t process these feelings
Mind is persistently prepared
For another sarcastic stab
And I can’t roam
This circus is my home
I accept it, so
I clench to a manifestation
Inside my mind
Mad
My eyes stay sullen, swollen
Sad
I hope that wasn’t this group, because that seems like a group to quit. Write in good health, joy (or whatever feeling you’re having), and good company. I like your work!
I rarely feel happy! :D
Great capture of the power of language: the poem’s rhyme and alliteration, the circus metaphor, the poem as a whole–all work to conquer “the malicious words.” Well done!
This really answered my downside, thanks!
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