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My Home Is My Hell

A poem about the life of a wife with an abusive husband, sadly she has given up and just takes it.

How did I get into this mess
We used to be so happy together
Now it's my own blood on my little black dress
I will feel my face sting from his slap forever
I am too scared to say how I truly feel and confess
That I hate him but he just keeps yanking my hair.

My face feels his anger if his alcohol is warm
And my neck compressed if try to leave the house or him
He throws me onto the bed in my bruised and beaten form
I cry as he cuts off whatever I wear and make the lights turn dim

I have given up trying to escape this prison called a house
If I try again he just says the beatings will get even worse

This is my life until my body is buried 6 feet underground.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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