A Poem a Day (225): Violation

Violation

You weep at their regard,

Turn heads to the wall,

Hide faces in this old dark,

Blind your memories dead.

You don’t want them to see,

And you don’t want their eyes

Grown on stalks penetrating

Your skin, your flesh, your self.

You want them to disappear

For all the things they’ve done.

You want them to perish

And feel no shame in wishing.

These men don’t belong here

And yet they still come in.

There is no end to their need,

Against which you all plead.

You are the canvas, the paper,

The object forced to yield.

So you turn heads to the wall,

Try not to feel anything at all.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 29, 2020