My Bearer, My Beater. Poem by Amber Rose

Her entity encrusted in stone
And her heart with sullied rubies
I scour her face for emotion
Fulfilment

I dream for it to be swollen with pride
Instead her tightened fist
Beats my face to a purple pulp

A whimper, a cry, a distant echo
The pain that thrusts an impulsive direct truth into my soul, into my heart
Crouched in memories of distant past
And nightmares of present

Bruited in anguish
My shadow hastily cowers in descent
My wholesome face
My neglected fate
Bruised

Mockingly chiselling my tears,
My mum,
My bearer……………………….. my beater.