Bully’s Refrain

Photo by Sydney Sims on Unsplash

When she woke, bruised and broken
the light within already fading
walking the street, in pain, observing,
to be or not is not the question,
to be close to feel but never touch,
to try to speak but have no voice,
to want to listen but never heard,
confined within an immoral gaol,
a velvet cell of quiet restraint,
until every atom of your being
strains to stretch, to break refrain,
to shout, to scream, to purge the pain,
acknowledge then the common stain,
the indelible mark of a bully’s refrain,
It’s you, not me, who is to blame.