Broken Bravado

It's all broken skin:
this bravado.
Your nature would never callus
against these brutal impacts,

it feels more solid now
because they have worn you
down to the bone.

Insults ricochet through
your tender brain and bite
the feeding hand for feeling.

The shared spikes are gone,
and now obsessive compulsive diet
sets your rage flaming

chasing so many shadows,
and projecting all neglect
onto any nearby face.

Its all broken skin:
this bravado,
and you're worn out
and stripped to the bone

needing only family
and a wall to beat on
a neck to throttle
while your anger subsides

Written, beginning of September.

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