At The Curb

i Stand in middle ground
happy to be the source of any insult
that can be thrown at you
but we turn tables and i find you
throwing the worst of them
thick like spit on my face
i feel it and cringe
though i know my futility
my sickly female exterior
limping across the dust road
is no match to the strength
your male well worked body has to
offer, i dive still
clasping a fist and planting it
to your face.
the collision: fist to face
leaves your jaw in pain
the euphoria sinks in, leaving me
off guard, you grab me by the neck
one hand enough to choke me out
in agony i smile wryly
and kick you across state
right down your god forsaken groin
i fall easily and take to running

im tired of this game
i cut my braids and bite on my lip
'til it bled
i hit the wall, 'til my fingers broke
bare feet i ran a mile everyday
down the stony path 'til my feet
bled no more
i swallowed back every tear
and mustered every inch of strength
i drunk my beer and smoke my reds
as i waited by the curb
for another insult and another chance
to push you down death's gate

the day is yet to come
when i finally allow myself
the comfort of tears
until then, i shall bear my teeth
grit them in anger
and callus my heart
waiting for your nasty remark
and violent rage.