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Description
Sleepless night wondering what I done so wrong,
Nightmare's of his hands, and how they're so strong.
He tells me he loves then walks out the door.
This is what he says after he's finished calling me a useless whore.
Maybe it's my fault he puts bruises all over my face,
But everytime I see him my heart starts to race.
I don't know if it's love or unhidden fear.
He only raises his hand when he's been drinking beer.
Don't know what do, or even what to say,
He only ever shows intrest in me at the end of every day.
He's not even gentle anymore. It's all about pleasure for him.
What happened to those guys who thought raising a hand to a female was a sin?
Why am I living my life in a dark stain of pain?
My life's went no where, it's like I've gone insane.
Locked up in a room with no communication at all.
The only comfort I get is from a moss eaten wall.
Don't know how many times I've counted the cracks in floor,
But everytime I recount it, it's like there's always one more.
One tiny mirror I can hardly see my reflection,
Everytime I look at myself I can't even see the connection.
My face is now covered in bruises and ugly scars.
I look out the window at all the passing cars.
I hold onto hope I'll oneday walk out of this room.
But I keep putting it off saying, "I'll do it soon".
My body starts tremble, and my hearts starts to race,
As my other halves hand meets my already swollen face.
Curled up in a corner after a pretty bad beat,
I look through the window, and imagine myself walking down the street.
It's so strange watching what happened in my past life,
I now see it everywhere, husbands hitting their defensless wife.
It was too late me to walk out those doors as I always said.
Because the day I decided too was the day I was was beaten dead.

Don't be a victim to abuse of any kind. Whether it be Verbal Abuse, Controlling Abuse, Physical Abuse or Sexual Abuse. Because you could be the one laying in your grave. The people who are supposed to love you are the people who are supposed to treat you right. If they loved you would they;
Tell you what to do?
Where to be?
What to wear?
Connect their fist to your face?
Force you to do what they wanted to do?

Don't fall for the saying, 'I'm only doing what is best for you, cos I care' They don't care what is best for you. They care for what is best for them. They only care about their over powering ego!

No! They don't love you. They see you as a trophey. Unless you like the feeling of being over powered by your loved one walk out the doors before it's too late.

Poem (c) Amanda Henricks.

Model: [link]

Background: [link]

Description
Sleepless night wondering what I done so wrong,
Nightmare's of his hands, and how they're so strong.
He tells me he loves then walks out the door.
This is what he says after he's finished calling me a useless whore.
Maybe it's my fault he puts bruises all over my face,
But everytime I see him my heart starts to race.
I don't know if it's love or unhidden fear.
He only raises his hand when he's been drinking beer.
Don't know what do, or even what to say,
He only ever shows intrest in me at the end of every day.
He's not even gentle anymore. It's all about pleasure for him.
What happened to those guys who thought raising a hand to a female was a sin?
Why am I living my life in a dark stain of pain?
My life's went no where, it's like I've gone insane.
Locked up in a room with no communication at all.
The only comfort I get is from a moss eaten wall.
Don't know how many times I've counted the cracks in floor,
But everytime I recount it, it's like there's always one more.
One tiny mirror I can hardly see my reflection,
Everytime I look at myself I can't even see the connection.
My face is now covered in bruises and ugly scars.
I look out the window at all the passing cars.
I hold onto hope I'll oneday walk out of this room.
But I keep putting it off saying, "I'll do it soon".
My body starts tremble, and my hearts starts to race,
As my other halves hand meets my already swollen face.
Curled up in a corner after a pretty bad beat,
I look through the window, and imagine myself walking down the street.
It's so strange watching what happened in my past life,
I now see it everywhere, husbands hitting their defensless wife.
It was too late me to walk out those doors as I always said.
Because the day I decided too was the day I was was beaten dead.

Don't be a victim to abuse of any kind. Whether it be Verbal Abuse, Controlling Abuse, Physical Abuse or Sexual Abuse. Because you could be the one laying in your grave. The people who are supposed to love you are the people who are supposed to treat you right. If they loved you would they;
Tell you what to do?
Where to be?
What to wear?
Connect their fist to your face?
Force you to do what they wanted to do?

Don't fall for the saying, 'I'm only doing what is best for you, cos I care' They don't care what is best for you. They care for what is best for them. They only care about their over powering ego!

No! They don't love you. They see you as a trophey. Unless you like the feeling of being over powered by your loved one walk out the doors before it's too late.

Poem (c) Amanda Henricks.

Model: [link]

Background: [link]