Always Pounding (A Ghazal Poem)

I’ve always wondered how it felt to have your fists; always pounding.
Herculean, with excuse-wrapped knuckles as gifts; always pounding.

Holding unlimited power, over feelings, thoughts, beliefs, minds,
the very breath and vein of what the world consists; always pounding.

To an innocent abuser, rage must be what distorts the world.
Horrific helix. Violence is how it untwists; always pounding.

You’ll never admit all that you did. There were always more reasons.
It’s never your fault. You were provoked. You insist; always pounding.

No matter how much I tell myself, that I didn’t deserve it.
Inside me, your words from years ago still exist. Always pounding.

I was just one child, hiding within my mind from you. Fleeing.
I still can’t escape, the beat of blood in my wrists. Always pounding.

I have to tell myself, you are my father, but I am not you.
I must rid my mind of the doubts and what ifs. They’re always pounding.