Violent Symphony

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  • Emotional

    Violent Symphony



    Bang.
    Smack.
    Glass breaks.
    Flesh cut, bruised, torn.
    Body lies broken, beaten, clothes ripped that were worn.
    A violent collision between two entities, two souls.
    Terrible damage, the consequences of an unpaid toll.
    One pushed to the edge, the other meeting unknowingly there.
    An innocent bystander, Caught up, no time to prepare.
    Lives changed, now and forever,
    redirected by the choice to be together.
    Not a collision of two vehicles, but of two parts.
    Of a person whose true self was unknown from the start.
    Two people together, but always at war
    I am losing this battle, no hope for the war
    You express yourself and I patiently listen
    But the signs are obvious, plain, clearly written
    I want to hear you, hear what you say,
    but I only hear your fist against me, why do we talk that way.
    I forgive you for the times you took my pride,
    I know it’s because anger’s unexpressed, internally it resides.
    What do I do, what should be said,
    I try to talk but your hand speaks instead.
    I want to stay but I am a realist,
    every time I anger you my face hits against your fist.
    I hear about your love, but hate is visible to me
    Everytime I look in the mirror, it’s in the bruises that I see
    Property. Slave. Possession. Child in your eyes
    Woman. Treasure. Precious, you don’t realize.
    You tell me what to do, rules in my own house
    You holler at me to speak, but there’s blood in my mouth
    Cover-ups, fake stories, excuses in abundance
    An evil cycle, horrible pattern, dangerous redundance
    My eyes, dried out, from nightly sessions of self-pity
    Using my make-up, covering the scars, have to look pretty
    No more, enough, I’ll break, no more bend
    If I leave you, I fear for my life, no more talking then

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    mdpoetgirl commented on Violent Symphony

    06-18-2009

    This was written very well. Great use of words and great storytelling, though the subject matter is sad. You describe the cycle of abuse so well though. Good work.

    4Him

    06/18/2009

    thank you. it was inspired by a friend of mine who was in an abusive relationship and wouldn't leave. I gave her this to speak to her situation, but sadly she stayed.

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    4Him’s Poems (9)

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