Poetry - Self

Pity City

She said
I had no reason
to breathe amongst the people
of Pity City,
groping in the leaden air
for a hand
my eyelids
pulled tight
like a drumhead
stretched across
big black sockets.

She said
I had no reason
to plod about the streets
of Pity City,
thrashing in my cocoon
of sticky pain
without a eyeful of blood
and a mouthful of broken teeth
flaunting my jaunty bones
my pastel face.

She said
I had no reason
to sponge up sympathy
in Pity City,
with all my mental armor
mocking the raped and ravaged
my steel skull
dragging me down
so close to the damp ground
that I was crawling