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A Portrait of Domestic Violence

She sat upon my living room floor,
She had been here time and time before,
With swollen eyes and many tears,
She began to pour out all her fears,
Fears of what leaving him might do,
Fears of starting life anew,
I felt sick with justified worry,
I knew she’d go back with a simple sorry,
I looked upon her blackened bruises,
I knew she’d fall for one of his ruses,
I sat down and took her arm,
“Leave him” I whispered “He has caused you harm”,
She wept and sobbed as she tried,
To form an answer that she could confide,
“I can’t take this anymore” she wailed,
“But everything I’ve tried has failed”,
My mind wandered to deeds better left unsaid,
I knew she would not mind if he was found dead,
I gazed out into the rain,
And forced the ideas out of my brain,

I heard a yell from far outside,
“Come out darling, I’m sorry” it lied,
She stared up at me from behind her hand,
“Don’t go” I pleaded “Don’t sing to his band”,
She stood up without a word,
It was like she had not heard,
She walked out my door with a glance,
As if to say “I’ll take another chance”,

Three days has passed since then,
She’s back on my floor once again,
This time worse then it was before,
But still she goes back for more,
Her bravery I could never compare,
I could never enter a dragon’s lair,
What runs this woman’s fire?
Could it be madness or desire?
To keep a man in her life?
To be the perfect wife?

Late in the blackness of night,
A sound filled the air that was not right,
A wailing like ghosts from natures past,
A howling that seemed to last,
A hundred years before I caught sight,
Of the source that caused much fright,
Nothing more then an ambulance,
That stopped just short of my fence,
It was followed by a car with lights up above,
Which flew down the lane like a startled dove,
I watched as the car stopped dead,
Two men in blue were bathed in red,
The siren halted but the light did not,
Had the woman enacted her plot?
I prayed as the men ran to her house,
I stared through the window,
Timid as a mouse.
A woman was soon carried away,
In a body bag was where she lay,
The police would not disclose the facts,
They waved their hands and turned their backs,
The news revealed the end of the game,
This lady of light had blown out her own flame,
I know I’ll see her again,
When the time comes for me to be lain,
Down in a dusty hole,
Under the ground,
There rests my soul.
She lives in heaven, away from the pain,
Leaving behind a life without gain.

A Portrait of Domestic Violence

Troy Ollis

Joined March 2008

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  • Ushna Sardar
  • karo
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