Bruised-Devereaux Frazier

Bruises
Are meant to be picked
Cracked
Punched
Burned
Toyed with again and again
Because if you leave them you forget what brought them
But if you stare they pretend they didn’t hurt you
I am in a constant state of suspension
Not willing to hurt the way I could
The way I should
After everything that’s been done
And whatever has yet to come
Somehow I don’t come after you
And destroy every one of your friends
Every fiber of your being
Because look
what you almost did to me

8 thoughts on “Bruised-Devereaux Frazier

  1. I liked your poem, it is very much like something I could have written, which brings me to my point: I’m 56 and have suffered abuses and indignities all my life. I’m covered with bruises. I wore them like badges of honor, but that did nothing to help me. I have wished many times over the years to avenge myself, but to what end? If I destroyed one of them, how many people who never did anything to me would I take down with them? What kind of man would that make me? If I can’t or won’t forget them, how much greater is their victory? I’m certain these questions cross your mind as much as they do mine. I know how difficult it is to let this shit go, I struggle with it every day and I would never make light of your struggle.
    You have to do what you have to do, I understand, but know this: sooner or later you are going to want to lose all this and take your life back and sooner is going to be a lot easier than later. Good luck, man.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Bruised – The Militant Negro™

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