What if the wind was a knife?
Swooshing around
Slicing invisible cuts
Inside you, right through you
Everyday
What appears to be
a breeze to everyone else
is lethal for you
Thousands of invisible cuts
Countless invisible cuts
No one can understand
They ask, “What’s the matter?”
Because they can’t see you bleeding
That same wind that circles you like a hitman
Transforms into a calming breeze in others’ presence
It’s like waking up to the barrel of a gun
With heavy invisible bullets that never leave a mark
Not even a scratch of proof of their crimes
Sometimes the wind is strong
And sometimes it’s barely there
When it’s gone for a while
It hits you with even more brute force
when it returns
It knocks you off your feet
You’re always bracing yourself
For the next gust
It feels inevitable
And unstoppable
Like you’re incapable
Like even the strongest walls can’t keep you from this wind
This is emotional abuse
The wind and me
