Damaged

I love the short, sharp sentences in this poem to highlight the writer’s message.

Caffeinated Lynne. A Poet with A Pen.

berry

I hate arguments.
The way I’m always wrong.
How you raise your voice.
Incessant swearing.
I do everything.
I am Super-“You-Name-It.”
You say it’s My “Job” —
because you work “all day.”
So you are a slob?
You have no respect.
I am human. I get tired.
Wouldn’t you? Trade me.
The kids. My mom. Bills.
School. Laundry. The house. Tired yet?
You wouldn’t last here.
We are so different.
I love my family. You don’t.
You hate visiting.
You are on your cell —
if you go. But that is you.
“Winding-down” is it?
I love spending time
with my kids. You become bored.
Shhh! You fell asleep!
Eleven years now.
We don’t cuddle, hug, kiss– touch.
Sleep in the same room–
Anymore.
And you try– now. You
want to make it work. Like  the
times before– But it
never lasts. We are
damaged from the inside. Your
words.. they…

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