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London - my salvation?
I leave the cafe and make my way back,
Down streets that I once hoped would provide still,
But evil doesn't rest, her words still smack.
My brain's fabric is wrung, spilling a shrill.
"You useless bastard runt, you disgust me!"
Everyday she spat this filth and punched my face.
Hate stabbed my soul, injecting its debris
Such venom creates a mind of disgrace.
Her words raped me, so I raped her icon,
Allowed my furnace to beast its desire
Venting pain; strangling it with nylon
Praying for my freedom as their lives expire.
These London streets don't tremble like Boston
There, ladies valued their lives, or, lost 'em!
M. Moran ©
Copyright 2008
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