I can piece together each bruise and cut,
Scab and scar;
Can say which finger, which rope, which cuff
Left that mark or that scratch.
I can see the streaks on your face.
From blood or sweat?
Is that fear?
You don’t deserve it.
I can name every night, day hour...
Right up to the second you leave
In a million different emotions,
All ragged and used
Like the whore on the corner
Who winks at you
You’re damaged goods from whips and chains,
And torn up clothes.
You think you’re shit,
But you’re lower than that
He’ll get tired of you, though,
When the latest edition shows up
All polished and clean.
And you can be just like me.
Until then I’ll keep watching your every move
As you toss and turn and cry
Like a little bitch
Because you don’t know just how much you have.
And i would kill to be back in your unfilled shoes.
Kill for it.
Author notes
Envy , Blaiyne
A contest entry
- The Seven Deadly Sins: A Contest by Nienna Calmcacil.
700 points, ended October 24, 24 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
...wow. That was certainly thought-provoking...speaking one's disgust for the person that they envy. It actually makes sense to me because I know how the narrator feels...such a conflict of emotion.
Speaking of emotion, your poem was chock-full of it: caustic and bitter. Lovely.
Great job. Thank you for your entry. This was quite a unique twist to Envy..
Adding your comment:
