Easter
He walks into my bedroomat night He takes my weight away
in the form of a back-handed compliment
He kills me inside
rather, His calloused heart leaves me to die
or suffocates the weary lives inside
He doesn't wear rose-coloured glasses
He doesn't paint his god-given nails black
He puts on shades and drowns my pain
in full of bottles of whiskey and fruit juice
lashes on my back
equal lashes on my wrists
lashes on my knees
the only difference
the inflictor of the
"pain"
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