All my life has been

torture bending backwards from

the swing of words

hanging off the edge of

mountain’s wishing someone

would stop and pull me

up.

Bystanders just stare

not sure as what to do

afraid they’ll end up

like me bloodied and

bruised wishing someone

would stop and pull me

up.

Slowly but surely the words

have stopped impaling me

but the fists have grabbed

me more than once

then all of a sudden they vanished

someone has stopped and pulled me

up.