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He hit me so hard

I blacked out

left me here

cowering naked in the corner

not just my body battered but my soul

never again will it be whole

with each dig his erection grew

gone the man I once knew

this is his passion, how he gets his kicks

My supposed crime - existing

my annoying habit - breathing

Last week I watched him sleep

the knife held tight

but I couldn’t do it

don’t have it in me

I have to get out of here

but I’m paralysed with fear

he’ll only come and get me

me and our precious new baby

NO, I start planning today, were getting away

no longer the scumbags punch-bag

the evil, wretched, ugly hag

I’m going to reclaim me

my bags packed, I can see

I smile as my blood congeals

because my soul is starting to heal

I’ll make him a cuppa tea

and not show him the new me

my insides happy and running free

I’m outta here

crushing the tablets with no fear

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing stage: 


thanks Beau how kind of you to give me your time I wrote this poem a while ago and its a about a period of my life about must be 26 years ago now it was written to give me a bit of healing and I didn't work hard on it I don't feel like revisiting it now but will make changes when i feel able and your changes are better much appreciated cheers Sueb x

author comment

I really liked it as it read especially when the tablets were your means of escape( by giving it to him?)

thanks frenchf I did get out but didn't give anyone any tablets lol have a great weekend cheers Sueb x

author comment

yep I left it open purposely x

author comment

I see that this is a while ago, it is so hard to shake these feelings off and they are carried as you know so well for many years.
Writing about those times will hopefully help in the healing process, but these things are a part of us as we journey on.
It saddens me that some have to go through this ordeal, only today I have heard that my Grand-daughter has been badly beaten by a thing that thinks its strong to hit someone that cannot defend themselves.
I would love to go and beat seven shades of shit out of him.
Sometimes I see the lessons running in families and as if they have Victim written on their foreheads.
I will leave you for now as this has upset my ways a lot, and I will see what tomorrow brings, and see what we can do about healing those that are close to me,
Yours with sadness, Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

HI ian t sorry to hear about your granddaughter physically I hope she's fine mentally takes time I met him when I was thirteen and was with him for 6 years he didn't hit me until I'd had his baby and moved in with him it took 4 months before I was brave enough to leave which can seem just as scary because you think they'll come back at you doubly hard sending big hugs and I hope she has someone to talk to at first sometimes the last people you want to talk to is family because I know I felt ashamed x

author comment

Thank you for your thoughts,
We will do all in our ways to make her life better but as you know it is so hard, Yours Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..


author comment

Sueb, this poem was harrowing but for the happy resolution. I'm glad you got out of the situation and seem happy. I'll never understand the tendency of women my age and older (probably younger too) choosing these bad boy characters. I had to intervene in one of these situations once with a female cousin. I'm not proud of my violent potential and felt like I'd taken it too far after they took him off. Then I hugged her and we talked and cried together for a while. It took her another 6 years to stop choosing these kind of guys. She's married to a great guy now, and we share a very special relationship because of this event. Very powerful write, every drop of blood and nausea are well accounted for.


Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

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