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The Abused



In the ease of a host
I left my thoughts on the fleeting coast
Not much left to see
In this cult of me
I've shared the comments
Stated my concerns
Not much left to do
Here comes my life

Just accept the truth
When you lose your reasons and you just don't know
You come to terms, and realize that you have nothing left to show

Here to believe, and come to accept
When you work your heart like of a bleeding drum
You know that you have nowhere left to run

We are the abused and we are the abuser
No one really chooses, just come to terms with life
I'm the abused, and I'm the abuser
I didn't have to choose, it's just f*ck*ng life

All the voices are written in stone
All the places are burning alone
Nothing left to believe, and I can't condone
Guns are loaded, and the people are being thrown
And here I am, not much left to be shown
All this broken glass is a symbol of home

I'm the abused, and I'm the abuser
I'm the abused, and I'm the abuser
We are the abused, and we are the abuser.
That's just f*ck*ng life
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Submitted on July 28, 2013

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Matthew Main Claim this poet

I write when I'm bored. I write when I feel inspired. I write when I feel I must. My writings are about whatever you want them to be about. It means more to me, what my poems mean to you. If that makes any since. My inspirations for writing are music. The main musical influences on my writing are the bands, Scars on Broadway, and System of a Down. more…

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    "The Abused" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 22 May 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/86007/the-abused>.

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