Used

Let's start with way back several years ago When I was still young and naïve I believed I was in love But how wrong I was Because all I really was was used. He had golden hair and loving eyes, At least when he wasn't angry But he very often was I had moved into his place Because I thought he was as great as he seemed I was delicate, fragile, and easy to break And break was just what he did One day we got into a terrible fight Raging, he was He raised his hand And I couldn't run fast enough The next day I escaped with bruises and scars I wish I'd done something, anything at all But I thought I deserved what I got So months this little cycle went on He screamed, and he fought, and it used everything I had Just to escape with my life. Those days changed me for sure I don't know how to get on with the world The reason I escaped, and the only reason indeed, Is because I took action against him. His hands around my neck, I had nothing else to do And he would've killed me if I hadn't grabbed the nearest weapon in view The last vision in my mind as I escaped from this place, Was him, lying on the ground, unconscious So now, as I'm sitting at home, safely writing this, All I have left of him, are the hand-shaped marks on my neck. WRITER'S STATEMENT: I tried writing a deeper, darker poem today. Although it may not rhyme, the most important part is that it tells a story. It's obviously about deadly physical abuse, but it's also about being aware, and not letting yourself go so deep in those situations that you could die.