The Season of Violations

The Season of Violations

I first feel the biting cold
sinking its fangs into my soft supple flesh.
Tearing at the meat 
it hits bone,
and sinks further.
aAn electric shock
that would have knocked 
me on my knees - 
if I were not already there-
wounded deeply by betrayal.
The hole they threw me in 
is so dark - 
it was not for my colourful coat that they condemned me-
but for my young flesh,
youthful blood.
Stones have been thrown down 
at me
with no space to dodge them
I take them
inside of me 
nuggets of rot
hate and decay.

For a moment I had seen
a thread of light,
it was snatched away from me
my violations left to fester for some time longer. 

Seasons come and seasons go
or do they go and come?
I do not know.
My limbs refuse to move
to be tempted by the winds of change,
by possibilities.

But could it be
the season must end?

I must be restored,
and one day soon
I must and will snatch back my true self,
and wield this jaw of defeat as my weapon of victory.