That Wasn't Me, I Never Want To Go Back To That

She cuts to break skin,
releasing the rush
of the anger held in,
blood begins to gush.
Fearing her past,
unknown anger builds up,
surroundings move too fast,
stress overflows her cup.
Browns eyes fear what she isn't,
afraid of tomorrow and the next,
hoping to release hostility imprisoned,
she doesn't want to lose self-respect.

poem by Isaak DeMaio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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