I've been drowning, in the smoke from your words
running blindly through the streets,
struggling to relieve myself from the hurt.
I would fly, but my wings have been torn
from the shallowness of your heart,
the erratic, unsteady flow of blood in your arms.
So, instead I lay in the dirt, hearing my ribs pop
from the pressure of your feet and hands
as you beat me even though I'm pleading you to stop!
Although the truth is, is that you could even slit my throat,
and with my last gaping breath, I'd still apologize
for bleeding on your shirt.

... I'm sorry