Hurt
Pick apart my bare body
And witness the scars
Woven into my flesh.
Do you wonder
If you made them?
Not with your hands,
Or with a blade,
But with your absence?
With the weeks of silence
And months of lies
You fed me?
With the laughter
You gave others
But not to me?
You claim innocence,
That others have hurt you,
But did you not hurt me as well?
Is that an excuse
I should accept
With the open arms
That still have your bruises on them?
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