Through Their Eyes

Often I'd think after he'd beaten me I have to get out, have to break free Weighing up my options it was plain to see Getting rid of him is how it should be I started to research, gather info and read The perfect murder is what I need Poisoning him slowly with every feed Always having munchies after smoking weed It took awhile to see any effect To others it looked like self neglect No reason at all for any to suspect A sense of satisfaction with no regret Trying to be tough no doctor he saw Early one morning collapsing on the floor Knowing he was there but I chose to ignore One way or another I'd settle the score Slowly in pain he finally died Now I'd never again have to hide I held my head high with such great pride At his funeral I even cried No more beatings making me sad But wasted years made me mad I couldn't show it but I was glad For breaking free I finally had! 4 August 2016