Morning rain clouds touched the wall.
His shadow,
A looming seven feet taller than him,
Omniscient in all the wrong ways.
His footsteps,
The drums of despair,
Resonate in my chest,
Its echo calling out to the door ahead of me,
Willing me to make a move.
And then, oh -
That solid silver he grips
Reveals my shattered reflection,
So sharp, calm, forbearing,
Yet graceful.
What a familiar kind of silver.
He holds it menacingly,
Just three inches from my face.
I see the blurry outtakes of a still film.
Myself,
Crouched in a fetal position.
Acid filled tears
Falling on deaf ears.
Blood on the walls,
A piercing pain on my inner thigh
Burns with question marks.
Had I ever known how to fold clothes as even as squares,
Tie a tie on good timing,
Or assort canned goods label facing forward,
Without instructions,
I could have lived the life of a happy woman.
But I am dumb,
He tells me.
I am a rock without strength.
I repress the thoughts of escape,
For fear of going to Hell.
As with all your poems, I especially love your wording and imagery. The tone is constant; remaining unbroken throughout the lines. It seems quite flawless to me and I really enjoyed this one. The speaker, though obviously portrayed as frightened in the poem, remains as a calm & even-minded observer. Almost emotionally detached from the scene she's in. I enjoyed this aspect in the character and found myself both, admiring her for her psychological strength, and sympathising with her for her physical weakness/lack of control. When those two traits are seen from the distance [as a general picture], I automatically found something to relate to. In my opinion, this is a very well written poem.
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