Damaged Goods

I am Damaged Goods,

 

that can neither love, nor find love.

My heart has long been emptied out,

scraped by the endless string of lovers who

swore to be caressing me with their filthy fingers,

long and skinny nails like claws

grabbing me, scarring me and

reducing me to nothing but

Damaged Goods

they can neither love nor ask for love.

I am Damaged Goods,

sneered at and cursed by those I hold dear to my heart

contaminating my thoughts with

the venom that spills out of their mouths.

Pain coursing through every vein in my body

making the blood stop,

 turning my body cold

losing all faith in a world that neither loves nor sees me.

Does the light ever make its way into my life, 

will my pleas for mercy be drowned along with

any hope I had of being normal.

If normal is calling others names and spitting on

those whose scars run deeper then yours.

If it's saying I love you but never looking into

my eyes or looking at the lines of fatigue

etched on my face.

If normal is using someone into nothing 

make me normal

so I will not hurt anymore but mock and 

sneer and burn flesh with my tongue,

that I too can corrupt young minds,

making them

Damaged Goods.