8 Years of Hell
I try to imagine what life was like for my mother,
being beaten by the man she loved,
I'm not talking about a slap here or there,
I'm talking beaten within an inch of her life.
I always remember smelling blood,
and the mess that was left behind,
every time my Dad would get in that groove,
where he'd just loose his mind.
I don't remember a lot,
a lot happened before I was five,
but my Mother had no troubling tell me though,
I was the reason she went back most the time.
We lived in a house of fear,
silently we would sit,
trying not to make a noise,
otherwise Dad would have another fit.
Even I suffered from his wrath,
apparently he would punch me across the room,
my Mother would try to protect me,
but she'd get a hiding too.
8 years of hell, she finally left,
the courage she found to run inside,
tired of being a gang members Missus,
she ran so she could have a life.
M.Mahauariki © 2012
Copyright © Murray Mahauariki | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment