Abuse

Pain, quick and sharp.
You struck me after I listened to you harp.
You yelled about things I had not done.
And made it so I could not run.
Back to the safety of my room,
Where I could avoid the impending doom.
The doom of being forced to die.
Slowly, and not be allowed to cry.
For if I did you'd stike me again,
And continue as if it had never been.
It never stopped, just kept repeating,
As I survived through many a beating.
You lead me slowly to my death.
You wish to see my dying breath.
But I will not grant you the satisfaction,
Of getting to watch my effusion,
Of my life blood on the floor.
I am going to be no more.
For when you wake tomorrow at dawn,
Everthing but my lifeless body, will all be gone.

@ Vincent Thornsberry 2008