The shock comes first.

Wells of surprise

flooding over every centimeter of skin,

Valleys of incredulity

rolling across my mind,

An abyss of disbelief

clouding over everything else.


But then comes the anger.

Horrible,

twisting,

immeasurable anger,

filling me up,

bending me backwards,

destroying me

as fast as

it can.


The sadness follows.

Tunnels of sadness,

plunging me into hopelessness and

despair,

making me believe

that nothing will ever be

joyous again.


And then at last

I find the words

to speak,

and so I do.

I speak and chatter,

I talk and blather.

I lecture and chide,

I argue and cry.

I scream and I shout,

I holler and yelp.

And all he does is stand there

and stare,

just stands and stares at me.


My voice fades, for I realize

that my words

will do

nothing.

No matter

what I speak,

nothing will change,

nothing will sway.

Everything will

be just the

same.


Nothing I say

can change what he's done.

Nothing I wish

will turn back time.

And nothing I do

will erase that Mark,

that Mark that's on his arm.