Posted in Life, Poetry

Whiskey Scars

Whiskey was 
the medication 
used to dull pain 

When the bottle 
didn't provide 

He shared 
his agony 

an attempt to 
dissipate his 

Punishment for those
whose pain was not
the same as his

The spread of agony 
simply resulted in 
unseen scars

Whiskey Scars 

The world
couldn't see 
my sharing
the lie

Copyright (C) 2023 Penny Wilson
Posted in Prose, Stories

Treasured Scars

I was never able to hold my breath long enough to avoid the stench of you. Your slurred, dribbling nonsense turned my stomach.  It was a game you enjoyed.  You would watch my face to see how long it took before I became repulsed. 

In your eyes it was fun; harmless. 

I would watch the anger wash over you as the booze took you away.  You were body-snatched, replaced by a monster.  The monster hated anyone in it’s path.  But the hatred was for itself most of all.  The hate engulfed all and rage was the only outlet. 

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