Punching Bag

              Punching Bag

I am a vent.
Just a tunnel for steam,
a funnel for anger of your broken dreams.
I am a tool.
Just an object to tweak,
something that's picked up to unplug a to leak. I am, but a nerve.
A pulsing sensation,
a pass time excuse,
unleashed explanation.
I am a mic.
A voice in the distance,
a thunderous shout filled with every resistance. I am your shame.
Your bump in the night,
the reason your life will never be right.
I am a goat.
An escape from your world,
just a tame me and blame me, excuse for a girl. I am a pawn.
Just a meaningless piece,
a band-aid that harbors a hideous beast.
I am a loon.
The Laughter at night,
a reason to blame whatever's not right.
I am your sorrow.
The tears that you cry,
the reason you'll suffer but never will die.
I am a mirror.
Just a reflection of you,
the high supreme judge that can not embrace you.
I am a fracture.
A crack in the glass,
an inevitable rage just waiting to blast.
I am your failure.
The burn in your soul,
that corrupted your youth and shattered your goal.
I am the nothing.
A whisp icy breeze,
a bone chilling virus, flesh eating disease.
I am a bag.
A home for your fists,
an emotional outlet you'll never resist. 

By: GUINEVERE NEGRETE 

4/28/13