a bruised cry for help

Look at her arm

Littered in bruises

Brown and yellow and green

But where did they come from

Why do they make her smile

Pause

Two circles sit right next to each other

They’re knuckle marks

Someone’s punched her

But why in the arm

Why at that angle

Why would someone hurt her like that

Then she smiles

Pressing down on the mosaic on her arm

Reset 

It’s her

It’s always been her

So emotionally drained and numb

The only way to cope is more pain

The concrete and physical type 

Look at her arm

And see her cries for help

This poem is about: 
Me

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