Used
Let's start with way back several years ago
When I was still young and naïve
I believed I was in love
But how wrong I was
Because all I really was was used.
He had golden hair and loving eyes,
At least when he wasn't angry
But he very often was
I had moved into his place
Because I thought he was as great as he seemed
I was delicate, fragile, and easy to break
And break was just what he did
One day we got into a terrible fight
Raging, he was
He raised his hand
And I couldn't run fast enough
The next day I escaped with bruises and scars
I wish I'd done something, anything at all
But I thought I deserved what I got
So months this little cycle went on
He screamed, and he fought, and it used everything I had
Just to escape with my life.
Those days changed me for sure
I don't know how to get on with the world
The reason I escaped, and the only reason indeed,
Is because I took action against him.
His hands around my neck, I had nothing else to do
And he would've killed me if I hadn't grabbed the nearest weapon in view
The last vision in my mind as I escaped from this place,
Was him, lying on the ground, unconscious
So now, as I'm sitting at home, safely writing this,
All I have left of him, are the hand-shaped marks on my neck.
WRITER'S STATEMENT:
I tried writing a deeper, darker poem today. Although it may not rhyme, the most important part is that it tells a story. It's obviously about deadly physical abuse, but it's also about being aware, and not letting yourself go so deep in those situations that you could die.
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