tiny hands, bandaged

evil hides, masks itself in flesh.
flesh swings hard, blood escapes.
crying is not allowed here.
tiny feet scamper to a lonely room, and evil retreats to the couch.
the television roars like a lion in the atmosphere of the tiny house where tiny ears are covered by tiny hands that long to be held.
but instead they are bandaged.

bandaged, tiny hands grow slowly into bandaged, big hands, no longer bandaged by fabric, but bandaged by memory.
and memory is a poisoned arrow, driving deep into the heart, where conversation and question do not reach.
these bandaged, big hands find a home within the soft, gentle hands of another sex, and together they make a puzzle complete.
but ignorant words strike deep and draw out memory, covered in anger, bitterness, and malice.
and malice hides, masks itself in flesh.
flesh grabs a knife and cuts the gentle hands, too shallow for death, deep enough for grief.

gentle hands grow into rough hands, worn by experience, calloused by tears.
and tears dry on cheeks but stain the heart, weakening it, dissuading its color.
and these rough hands find strong, rough hands and something close to love is shared between.
and love makes way for two tiny hands to enter this world through blood and water. rough hands hold close tiny hands.
tiny hands grow slowly, into learning hands that go to school and get bad grades, and sit and play games on the television.
and a heart, still stained, gives birth to disgust and shame.
and shame hides, masks itself in flesh.
flesh opens wide its mouth and pours out words that cut like knives and crush like mountains.
instance gives way to habit, and so words and mountains crush and kill learning hands morning and evening, evening and morning.
rejection is consumed and shame is digested, bit by bit, with every word and mountain.

learning hands become shaking hands.
and shaking hands learn how to tie a rope.
and rope, still shaking, shakes more at 2:13 am, then falls silent, still.

and shaking hands shake no more.

* say no to domestic violence of any kind.
emotional, spiritual, sexual, mental, or physical.
choose love.
if you know of anyone in a toxic home environment, take their complaints very seriously and always call 911 if someone you know threatens suicide.
it isn’t a game.
it’s life.

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