cylon-Atley

Alone but for those, Who raised me, The ones I called family turned to me with scorn, And said I was not one of them. I shared just as much of the same bond as they did, We had blood, We grew up together, And yet they deny me. A child I am no longer, I have felt grief and I have grown, But still they throw words to wound, Words to kill a certain part of me. Words that I cannot escape, For no matter how hard I overcome them, Someone else throws them back. A double edged sword, As apt to wound me as it will to you, I hope the regret you feel, Lingers a little while. I am tired of the wound that gets ripped open, By someone I

The tears that fell, From those silver cheeks, Rained down upon, The open hand. None could offer condolences, None could offer excuses. It was awful, Stressfull and too long. The silence that stretched, As those tears fell, From silver cheeks, With luminous light. The bright flash of blue, Of orange, Sent sudden pain through, And a roar of rage was emitted. The sound echoed around, As the silver tears fell, And the flashes, Accompanied by the pain roar.