Bastion

Words seep from my open wounds
a slow osmosis through fractured skin
then the cascade of contention
bursting banks and dams and dykes
a rush of destructive creation
a tearing down of protective battlements
I am naked and bleeding quarrelsome
commentary into defenceless ears
I am exposed with every word
artlessness in art my stock in trade
These words leave me stripped
divested of armour and thrown
on the mercy of the court
I am made of words
picked clean by predation and scavenging winter
a skeletal frame on which to hang
the raw disturbance of the ego
I am made of words and emotion
And wretched bones

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