Down But Not Out
There she lays,
Broken and bruised.
Her clothes are in tatters,
But that is nothing new.
She watches as her blood drips,
Upon the old wooden floor.
But she makes not a sound,
Or else he will deal her more.
She must lie there and wait,
For the moment when she knows he is gone.
Either through the front door,
Or to the bed down the hall.
Every night with him,
Is always the same.
He comes home again drunk,
And she is somehow to blame.
When will this torment,
That she always endures,
Come to an end?
She is not sure.
But one day peace will come.
She will soar away on mended wings.
She will have the strength to walk away.
She will know what it is to be free.
Broken and bruised.
Her clothes are in tatters,
But that is nothing new.
She watches as her blood drips,
Upon the old wooden floor.
But she makes not a sound,
Or else he will deal her more.
She must lie there and wait,
For the moment when she knows he is gone.
Either through the front door,
Or to the bed down the hall.
Every night with him,
Is always the same.
He comes home again drunk,
And she is somehow to blame.
When will this torment,
That she always endures,
Come to an end?
She is not sure.
But one day peace will come.
She will soar away on mended wings.
She will have the strength to walk away.
She will know what it is to be free.
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