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Posts Tagged ‘aftermath of abuse poetry’



I WAIT

I wait:
For you to get home, hoping that you’ll be in a good mood, knowing that in the end, it won’t make a difference.

I wait:
Watching you, all the while knowing that you’ll scream at me then push, hit, poke, punch, slap me before the night is over.

I wait:
For you to see that you have beaten love to a pulp and it doesn’t live in this house anymore, if it ever did. I “thought” I had it in the beginning, until, too late, I realized it was just a way for you to “lure” those like me.

I wait:
Wondering why you “keep” apologizing for the pain you “keep” giving and “keep” giving and “keep” giving. Please get “tired” of giving me “your” love early tonight. I need some more time to “recover” from last night’s “pain orgy”.

I wait:
Shrinking from the inevitable pain you start giving me now that you’ve knocked me to the floor. The shoes that I bought for you with my “real blood”, “fear sweat”, and many tears kick me as I look up at the “smiling anger” on your face and wonder why is “killing me” bringing you such abnormal satisfaction.

I wait:
Wishing some passerby outside the house would hear my “screams” and your “shouts” thru the broken windows and be compassionate enough to get involved just long enough to save my life by calling 911.

I wait:
Inspecting my body to see if I’m damaged enough to go to the Hospital, my only “safe oasis” away from you. I lie to them for “your” sake and safety all the while praying that I can “stay” for mine.

I wait:
In the car, waiting for you to start the engine so I can hear the radio and tune out you telling me it’s all “my” fault. AGAIN! And, you’re so right, huh. Do you really expect me to believe that this is what “I” made you do”?

I wait:
Hating the fact that you still expect me to do things for you, with this “new” cast on my “old” broken arm, after we get to that torture chamber you call “home”

I wait:
Counting the minutes that tick by slowly, contemplating whether or not the sleeping pills I crushed and poured in your drink will keep you knocked-out long enough for me to get some sleep after I cry in peace.

I wait:
To get into the passing lane on the “interstate” in the car donated to me by a “friend” and a trunk packed with items on the “safety plan” they gave me.

I wait:
NO MORE! NO MORE! now
I “escape”! I “survive”! I “RISE”!
…♥ ♥ ♥ {GhostWing

http://www.facebook.com/GhostWing

Your only FEAR should be the CHOICES you make.

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