The Unloved

The unloved touched me one day. It’s hands were dark and bruised, bleeding from the last pain.

It burnt the very place it touched. Instantly putting my body into shock

The unloved pretended to know the language of love. Knew all the phrases and slang of it.

Once touched by the unloved the journey back was lengthy painful with every deceivable moment hung beautifully upon the walls.

You’ll smile again, keep walking, crawling and fighting back until you get back to self. From it you’ll be less innocent, less naive but you’ll certainly gain wisdom.

Just remember the unloved was taught to hate themselves, so therefore it’s touch is full of anger. And if you look closely dysfunction thrives deep within the familiar bloodlines.

My teachings fell upon dry ground and became scorpions only to sting me in my heart. Unfortunately, I became one of the many bodies of women bleeding behind him.

Scorched from his terrible fire I sought healing from my Father who Art omnipresent for my wounds were too deep for man’s remedy.