Poem by Doniell Cushman
I wince when flying hands come
toward my face I was hit too many times to suppress the instinct I can still remember those times He'd attempt to break my glasses every time I recoil when arms come flailing toward my body I want to dodge any further blows and scratches They left red marks, scars and bruises I can still remember those times He'd attempt to rip my face open I push away when bodies come tumbling into me I have fallen enough now to be caught off guard I can still remember those times He had no self-control and would take me down © Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review. All rights reserved by Doniell Cushman.
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AuthorDoniell Cushman, B.A. cum laude Archives
June 2022
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