Spit on my grave
spit on the dirt
they holler at my mass
until my soul hurts.
they kill my heart in my presence
they kill until tears flow from my viens
forgetting everything they want is the essence
and essence is their gains.
cold realities slip and plunge
they are coming
they go for the lunge.
they multiply their choices
they make me want to lose
they make me want to hurt myself
or whatever they choose.
with my blood in their hands
they saturate my emotions
they muffle my pleadings
by going through the motions.
they intervene my dreams
and go into the past
they show the face of somebody i knew
and make the loneliness last.
they make me wonder
if they are safe or alone
they express their anger
at a mental tone.
they switch the faces
of the people that are fond
i reach to hold
but before i know it, they are gone.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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