Abusive
Growing up with abuse, I didn’t have a voice
Quieted thoughts because I didn’t have a choice
Hidden wounds and scars that just won’t heal
The pain is something that I tried to conceal
Little did I know that it was right there on the brink
That it was hindering my ability to clearly think
I see the crimson red, tattooing my hand
I see blacks and blues colored by my hand
I want to stop doing this but I don’t know how
I wish there was someone here to stop me now
No one ever taught me how to love another
And because of that, she’s the one that has to suffer
I hear her cry out to me and beg me to stop
As my fists make contact and I hear them pop
Against her skin…why is this happening?
Trying to stop this is so very challenging
My past brings her tears that I purposely let fall
And I stand back and do absolutely nothing at all
I kick and punch and tell her she’s worthless
I cause her pain because I cannot resist
I hate her because she forces me to feel
My hidden alter ego she causes me to reveal
There is a part of me that hates doing this to her
After each beating, something inside of me stirs
I tell her I’m sorry but the words mean nothing
She knows my repetitive apologies are void of loving
Now I sit, shaking, while I pray over my Holy Bible
Wondering how in the world can I break this cycle.
Copyright © Constance Gilmore | Year Posted 2012
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