A victim thier slave

the simplest rituals
of existence for her
like getting dressed
left her racked
with the futility
of it all

most of her days
deciding not to risk
getting up
always
falling back to sleep

telling us
silence is more profound
while humming
and staring

telling us
she could hear the dust
falling between the walls

i saw
her many times
this way
alive?
dead?
neither
bruises under her eyes
dark like night

never stripping
to reveal the pain
hiding underneath
from her entire
extended family
a victim
their slave
avoiding their gaze

often her music
was loud enough
for no conversation

musty volumes
of books
covered most of the floor
spending
many days and nights
with
Plath and Hughes

poisoning her slowly
her mirrored eyes broken
from nights
of drinking dark

one
can even
all most hear
the fear
that pounds her heart

the misery felt
with her every
footstep

the sadness
revealed
across her face

while given
professional warmth
of eyes
she
laughed and laughed
with the
multitude of voices
that made her laugh

no longer
their slave
yet her days
are slow to heal

always
a victim
wanting to stay alive

her poems born
in the madness
©Babym2

In quietness and in trust shall be your strength ..Isaiah 30:15

A victim thier slave

BabyM2

Joined August 2010

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