Maimed

Left so ugly so bitter so foul,
known only by my scowl.
my soul within goes unheard,
and no one listens to a single word.
They're too taken aback by my wounds,
too faraway to receive my boons.
Left alone one becomes hard.
And from all the fires of hate, a heart becomes charred.
Love is a hope far too distant,
all I can do is hope for healing in the present.
Even that is a stretch of the imagination,
I hold no hope of liberation.
My fate to me seems so bold so clear,
but alas, dying alone is no longer my fear.
for years I prayed for her love.
I found myself no dove.
Only a foul foul thing.
and I had no idea of its sting.
hard is the heart of the maimed.
And oh how a hard heart is drained.
callouses are no substitute for the love of another,
but my heart no longer has the strength to bother.