Personal Punching Bag

I wrote this poem after I was hurt by someone I love very much. I wanted to stew over it, but when I tried I couldn’t. Who am I to judge another, when I am often the worst offender?

Personal Punching Bag

I’m not your personal punching bag

You don’t own the rights to me

Don’t show me around as if you win

With my scars for all to see


When I offer you my hand

I never expect the tug

From below into the sand

I am broken like a jug

Cast aside to the floor

Shattered into chunks

Can not take it anymore

Patience has been sunk


“I will not stand for this”

I finally declare

“Get up and raise your fists

Do it if you dare”


All the while I stare


Only when I look on the face, of the enemy

I do not see my foe, but a little piece of me

My arms go limp for a fight I do not seek

I see why Jesus said, “turn the other cheek”


For I can recount the times you’ve wronged me

And the price you ought to pay

Yet I cannot recall when I’ve wronged another

Or the price that they might say


I’m not your personal punching bag

For I am already spoken for

As the Lord forgave me of my sins

I too will forgive you yours

© Ryan Mathisen


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