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Bone

It’s not the hand that hit me,

No! My jaw does not hurt anymore.
It’s not the blood, I’m worried about,
It’s my part that I lost.
He is my father,
Obviously I’ll forgive him.
So what? If he lost his temper?
So what? If he beat me like a savage?
I understand that I hurt him,
His ego, more than his heart.
After all an ego is all that a man has got,
Oh! And that extra bone!
I have that extra bone too,
As long as my pinky finger,
And a pair of lush breasts,
And unfortunately, a beating heart.
It’s not the blow that hit me,
Its his tongue that murdered my being.
My jaw does not hurt anymore,
My butchered soul does.
The surgery is due next week.
 Father says
if bones are to stay,
that bone goes.

Poems

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