An abstract poem about, as the title suggests, abusers of any kind, and those who stay with them when they could and should be free. Instruments capable of beautiful songs, but with broken strings.


Faith flaps free on alabaster wings

The night is a blanket where troubled children

Hide their faces from well dressed bogeymen

Hitching like a gargoyle on neglected rooftops

Paralytic touch sends nerves thrumming

Like violin strings untuned, unloved

Dream-dust inhaled brings a terrible fever

As moths and beetles settle on young eyelids

To drink the tears before they're bitter

You'll understand when you're older

They mock us with their bodies;

Polished carapace, ridges down a twisted back

Gangly, barbed, twitching with need

Strumming instruments until they shatter

They're not yours, you distorted their songs

How could you bear to hear it?

Antennae sweep to make sure you're not dead

Talons outstretched, a helping, hurting hand

Wordless desires stab once placid skies

The intruders rear and roar

Grating voices that belong in the past 

The flowers weep

For all that will not rise from the ashes

For all that is just a fairy tale

Good intentions

Breathless and bloodless we stay

Fighting monsters in our minds

The End

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