Marion Mwangi | + Follow Poet |
Rhyme | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print |

I Should Have Run

I should have run like crazy 
but I was deep in love and not lazy
I wanted to be your all
But you, you wanted me before you to bow and kneel
Inside me burned a fire full of love
I should have run like crazy
But I was in love and not lazy.

It started with a word that tore me apart
Then a torrent of harsh, coarse insults
Every time you breathed my way,
The blood in my veins froze like ice
Every time I tried to say no you always had your way and
 You played with mine life like a game of dice
I should have run like crazy
But I was mad in love and not lazy.

It started with a shove, a little push
That slowly matured to jabs and blows 
Sometimes it was a slap when you were in a rush
My face became distorted like an angry painting of scars
They said a true wife never gives up on her man and so I stayed
They said pray for him darling and so I prayed
But the tornado of hate kept blowing hard
I should have run like crazy but I was afraid
Of the gossip, the sneers, the laughter, of being accused.

The night you came home you were not drunk
But still your eyes burned like the devils orbs
I tried a smile; I tried to be good but was rewarded with slaps
You said the food was cold just like I was in bed
You lifted me off the ground with a kick, you were vicious
You broke my ribs with your brick like hands
You called me a whore said I couldn’t keep my skirts down
While in truth it was you who couldn’t keep it in your pants
But you were not alone inside you had a beast
See I wanted to run but it was too late
I knew you would kill me, was this my fate?

When you lifted the machette high in the air
I couldn’t breath; I became a captive of fear
The first slash, the pain, the blood as you raised it again
I saw my life flash before my eyes; weak, poor, and vain
But I didn’t know inside me lived a beast too
I saw the kitchen knife lying not far as you cut me again and I knew fury
And as you cut me again I crawled towards it
Then the blood was in my hands and the knife….
Buried deep inside your bastard heart, I tried to save you
I should have tried harder but I couldn’t I didn’t want to
I tried to save me but I couldn’t it was already too late
And as I lie here in a pool of blood; mine and of the monster I married
I hope it’s not too late for some other girl
I hope they won’t listen to anyone but themselves
I should have run but now it’s too late.

Copyright © Marion Mwangi | Year Posted 2016

Please Login to post a comment

Lewis Nyaga Date: 10/3/2016 1:31:00 AM You write so emotively.. i grew up knowing a real man doesn't strike a woman.. so sad domestic violence lives to this day.. so sad today someone will still go through it hoping their partner will change..//Blessings Login to Reply Marion Mwangi Date: 10/7/2016 8:44:00 AM yes a real man doesn't strike a woman but the reality on the ground is different. writing this piece i had that woman whose husband chopped off her hands and others I've seen and heard of, in my mind, i shed tears listening to her story. gender based violence can be perpetrated by either sex man or woman and should be condemned... thanks for the visit, blessings to you too.