Ms. Demeanor

Ms. Demeanor


She used to try to adhere
to what others wanted to be;
But she would always harbor rejection.
So now, she'd rather remain hard to see.
She holds fast to secrecy
without covering her eyes;
because she knows that most people
can't understand what's deep inside.
She is a living absorbsion
of broken promises and incessant lies.
She is mute to this world;
hiding in darkness when she cries.
She is a vessel of immense hopelessness;
too desolate and barren to be a believer.
Screaming loud for no one to hear;
dragging through life as Ms. Demeanor.


She conceals all of her scars;
so only the darkest garments are worn
to cover the lasting remnants
of a love that leaves her torn.
What started out as pure bliss
slowly became her personal sacrifice;
but she knows that if she resists,
She'll likely pay the ultimate price.
He tells her that he loves her
after her body crashes to the floor.
She begs for the ravaging to cease;
but he disregards what she implores.
Abuse leaves her body and heart tender,
giving him free reign to cleave her;
Separating happiness from it's host
till all that remained was Ms. Demeanor.


Her feelings are understandable;
but her methods of coping are obscure.
She is fully aware of this;
but the pain is too much to endure.
Sulking in the relentless shame
that usually follows his trials of wrath,
She surrenders now to her worst habit
in hopes of escaping the aftermath.
The potency is stronger with every prick
and after each dosage, she silently asks:
"God, will this finally be enough
to ensure that this time is my last?"
She hates how dirty she feels;
but has lost her desire to be cleaner.
Her habit purged what she used to be
and only left behind Ms. Demeanor.


Betrayed by countless who pretended to care,
she couldn't conceive any conclusion
that didn't involve hiding from life
as she slips completely into seclusion.
She was always the social recluse;
never allowed to join the commission.
Excluded from everything except abuse,
it was hard to deal with constant omission.
Her perverse means of adjustment
had adversely effected her condition.
Her syringe nor his unstable touch
could send her suffering into remission.
Crushed under the weight of her plight,
convinced that nothing could redeem her,
She relinquished what was left that night;
leaving only fading memories of Ms. Demeanor.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz