Bruise. Crack. Stab.

Spend your days or mine,
to our Father Time,
To crack my ribs and
bruise my pride.

Spend these shallow eves,
shedding tears in sheaves,
with a knife in my heart
and in my hand a sheath.

Spend these empty nights
instigating fights.
Twisting my words like arms,
like mirrors bending light.

Spend the sleepless hours,
doing all within my power
to stop the blood and tears,
and reasons that I cower.