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Poem

They beat me, 
Two men before you,
And I watched as it happened,
As it changed from a playful swat,
To smacking me so hard my head hit the wall.
I watched as their fingers caressed up my throat,
And then squeezed - an anaconda constricting,
Black closing in around my vision,
My nails clawing for air.
I watched as they brushed my hair,
Smoothing it away from my face,
Until finally wrapped around their fist,
It was used to drop me to the floor.

Cheek pressed hard against the tile, carpet, hardwood.

They use to call me beautiful,
I was smart, and funny, and quick to have a comeback,
But those were things they tired of.
Now my beauty made me a whore,
My intelligence was made mute,
Called a know-it-all, put down, ignored,
The things that made me perfect were no more.

I watched as their sweet nothings turned into nothings,
No sugar added, double the spice,
And their hands, their hands got more violent,
I was the problem - because I cried.
When the pillow was held over my face,
When their hands were clenched too tight,
When they pushed me, hit me, called me names,
When they forced their touch at night.
 
Two men beat me before you,
Now you laugh like its a lie,
You scream at me when I start to cry,
I question if you really love me,
If I somehow did this to you,
I watched them become monsters,
I don't want that to happen to you.

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