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A
Voice To Be Heard
Mirrors
show a reality...a look so often seen.
New
bruises...shadow's past scars.
Make-up
can no longer camouflage.
Bones
mended, only to be broken again.
"Sorry
baby, I love you. It won't happen again."
That
is only his hang-over talking!
Forced
upon, his unwanted moans.
Fear
and pain, are my only pleasure.
This
is his way of making love.
"Feels
good, baby...a real turn on!"
That
is his alcohol talking!
A
caged animal, I've become.
Tortured,
teased and made to perform.
Can
anyone hear my roaring cries?
Actions
rewarded only by fists.
If
this is love, it HURTS too much.
Home
from work, greeted by kicks.
My
blood replaces his empty bottles.
Will
he ever get his fill?
The
mighty blows ravage my body.
A
battle I can no longer fight.
I
close my eyes as the red river flows me to a world of no pain.
Sirens
wail . . .
A
voice finally heard.
But
much too late. . .he now leaves in handcuffs,
the
walls still echoing my desperate cries.
He
looks back to all that is left...a blood-stained carpet.
A
tear strains from his eye, as he says . . .
"I
really did love her."
~Sherrie
Steinman © 1997~
National
Domestic Violence Hotline
1-800-799-SAFE
(7233)
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designed by Beth~
~I
just want you to know who I am~
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