Poem: Venom of the Scorpion

By: Kristy Fusich

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You never screamed no, but it’s what you were saying.
This isn’t right.
This doesn’t feel right.
You go limp and play dead. When the scorpion stings its venom leaves you numb. Its tail is quick as a whip and its stinger is sharp like rose thorns. He leaves you no time to react and ward off his sting. The pain can be intense. The pain can be paralyzing. The pain can be quiet. The scorpion can control the amount of venom he releases. A little or a lot, it all depends on you. How much you fight, how much you push away, how much you move. Some can sting with no venom, simply to dominate and show their teeth. Still there is the fear of the worst that lies beneath. The end leaves no visible scars, no marks, and no destruction that the naked eye can see, just the dark memory. The scar of the heart. The scar of the mind. You’ll know the scar even without the sting. You can feel the pain again whenever a scorpion is near.
The venom is still in you.
The venom is still scarring to you.
You let them sting once and live with the pain, the reoccurring numbness, the swelling of the scar.
You’ll never scream no, but it’s what you were saying.

 

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