Bruised Jazz

A cage of your own making
jumbled maddening sounds
dancing up a storm of anger

Inaccessible to the ones you love
banging and blaming 
yourself against every single wall

Tear-stained mascara tracks
dripping on 
your cheeks, neck, breasts

Tearing at the wallpaper
no hidden text of hope
nor any buried treasure

A victim's marks blotch 
your arms, back, and face

You know it was not your fault,
yet you blame 
and blame and blame yourself.

A mess of limbs, hair and wild eyes
you look to the ceiling, the record 
stops and the rain begins to fall

You let all the shit go.