Long Physical abuse Poems
Long Physical abuse Poems. Below are the most popular long Physical abuse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Physical abuse poems by poem length and keyword.
Look at you now
All bloated and stinking
Feeding the maggots and flies
What were you thinking?
Did you think it would last?
Your rein of malicious intent
All the days of physical abuse
And nights of hellish torment
Your belittling ways, gave you such a thrill
How you chipped away at my sanity
Breaking not only my bones
But my dignity and will
You tried to control my thoughts
Your power over me you had to prove
By binding my heart and soul
So tight I could barely move
I had become just a toy
To amuse your twisted mind
To my misery and unhappiness
You were unaware and completely blind
But your cruel games are now over
Your time of tyranny is through
It was my life I had to defend
And that’s why I had to kill you
I wish they had not found you
Revenge or satisfaction I never really got
I wanted to feel your soul suffer
And watch your body rot!
wife beater
cheater
a man whom commits domestic violence
against his spouse
or long term female partner in house
Physical abuse by husband or male companion No good cheater
Extreme jealousy
Possessiveness unpredictability
spiting hitting baggy pants
lying cheating man
prideful, denying
bounties full of dissentient
misogynist terrorist
hypocrite demonic
Wide brim hat sugar daddy
a spoiled mama's boy anti-feminist
a man whose prejudiced against women
strongly despises and dislikes
a rolling stone, leaving no address he rome
cheater
wife beater
11/13/23
For No 1257 New Poem Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
A deep, dark kindred spider looms to proffer the sentiment,
That abuse just objectifies the long persistent winter:
Scouring around playfully, but embedded in the night -
Two way of seeing it but only one plight.
That black body, its piercing eyes drive acutely,
In the lengthy web that’s receptive but selfish with quirk,
With thin, spindly legs which effect to mobilise,
The creature only some befriend to glamourise.
We hold to the summer, autumn and spring as the norm,
Not winter’s harrowing chill which makes us so often ill;
The act of telling someone you've been raped, abused,
Should not be a sick kick or a jester’s a thrill.
If you don't give us our minds, stance and chirps,
You'll just be cushioning that admiring psychologist,
Who asks us about physical abuse, sexual, and rape,
But who we hate to have as we’ve no trait.
Give us our spirits, intellect and powers:
Don't glare, glance and glower at our ordinary activities;
Equality only exists when you feel it and can tower,
In the informal social networks of civil conviviality.
And of course, nasty small talk itself causes rape,
Violence and abuse which derides and can shape,
The heart that reaches out to befriend and welcome,
The fence-sitter, the open mind who quietly relates.
But if you say physical abuse just objectifies other lesser evils,
Like criticising needlessly, cutting us off, and gloating,
Then your sick in the head and unforgivable,
Because all discrimination is unnecessary and avoidable.
The Wounded Heart
Have you ever been hurt by the one you loved
Piercing pain as though a knife has been shoved
Deep into the heart reaching the soul
“Oh why, oh why, will I ever be whole?”
Then slowly, with a sorry and kisses you begin to heal
“Really, my love, I didn't mean the sorrow I caused you to feel”
The wound slowly closes leaving a small scar
It is small, outwardly the skin it does not mar
Life goes on and all is well again
“My love, my life, my very best friend”
The sun is shining the moon glows
Children are born, the family grows
Isn't it sad the little signs you ignore
You want to be loved by the one you adore
An insult here, a little put down there
Little lies to yourself, “For me, my love really does care”
It is only their childhood pain that makes them this way
“Yes, with my love, they will get better each day”
A knife deep in the heart reaching the soul
“Oh why, oh why, will I ever be whole?”
The wound starts to open, the little scar begins to bleed
It is not so small anymore, sorry and kisses will not heal it's need
Have you ever been hurt by the one you loved
Piercing pain as though a knife has been shoved
For some it is betrayal, addiction, or physical abuse
What about the children, around their necks you have allowed a noose
To choke out their innocence and assassinate their joy
Look at the faces of your little girl or boy
Is this the life you want for them
Hoping and praying your bleeding heart will heal when?
Without intervention sought by BOTH of you
This bleeding scar will not heal, this fact is true
When you choose to ignore that first inflicted pain
Thinking they really love me and will never do the same
Remember your future children and their hearts that could bleed
If you make poor choices to fill your own need
Have you ever been hurt by the one you loved
Piercing pain as though a knife has been shoved
Deep in our hearts reaching our soul
“Oh why, oh why, will we ever be whole?”
what happened to this world, how did we fall so short
seems like intergity and righteousness is distorted
the unborn are no different from the rest they're
still being murdered and aborted. what they laugh at
is the same thing inside I'm mourning for, Jesus wept and
was crucified for so I mourn...because it seems like
its a never ending cycle we use to say "we shall
overcome"
but that way of thinking was recycled so I mourn...for the
physical abuse victims r.i.p Phylicia Barnes and bring the
ones
responsible to repentance I mourn...for the victims of
addiction
crack babies and base heads Lord God heal their
affliction
I mour...for my own limitations I can't make it without
you Lord,
that's without hesitation. I mourn...because I'm aware of
the truth
and my earnest prayer is threw Christ that I speak life
into you
I mourn...because I can't save them but I'm a let my light
shine in
pitch black darkness or when the lights are dim, I
mourn...because
we're in need of our Saviour let the word of God hit you
like
a hundred thousand volts from the tazer, I
mourn...BECAUSE LIKE HIM I
DON'T WANNA SEE YOU GO TO HELL, MAKE WAR
AGAINST SIN NOW
ALL MY BRETHEN LETS REBEL!!!
In my life, I felt discarded.
Like I was of no value nor use.
I was merely unwanted trash.
Due to many years of mental,
sexual, and physical abuse.
My weary soul was trampled on.
I felt like I was nothing at all.
To put it frankly, I felt like junk,
that nobody in the world wanted.
For the most part, I overcame
feeling like that, but that part
of me will always be a part of me.
I will never forget that feeling of
nothingness. And I am forever
grateful for where I am now. I
know now that I'm of importance
and value and not a piece of junk.
9/11/2021
Contest: “J” New Or Old
Sponsor: Constance La France
I once knew a little girl coming of age. She often put her trust in people, places and things. She met liars, cheaters, users, abusers frequently in her mind, soul
her self esteem broke, her kindness taken for weakness she was labeled a fool,
crazy, stupid because she cared too much. ungrateful individuals seemed
to be captured by her presence. places she treaded searching for an escape
only to face mental abuse on repeat that turnt to broken trust, disappointments,
and physical abuse that turnt to brokeness. weariness seeking to regain her
Self-control, spiraling out of control, continously lied on, her name scandalized. She's wearing these labels for game? and often the topic for belittlement, She
was ridicule . This little broken, despite that she is overcoming, striving to stay
on track for this little girl is blooming into a woman that holds love in her broken
spirit to dim her light yet stillness and tranquility remains in her heart.
This morning a gust of wind snuck up behind me without making a sound…
nudged me a little forward and knocked my hat onto the ground.
It might have been my imagination but I think I heard the wind chuckle
just a little bit…
and as she knocked the hat from off my head I swear she said,“Tag! You’re it!”
I’m not one to shy away from a challenge
and even though a slow morning walk I prefer…
after I retrieved my hat and placed it back on my head…I went chasing after her.
Although she had a nice head start…this impish morning breeze
I spotted her up ahead…waving from the trees.
I lost her for a moment as those same trees I passed…
until I turned the corner and saw her running through the grass.
But the wind does not play fair…you might shay she’s a little sneak…
since she’s invisible we spent that game of tag also playing hide-and-seek.
I spotted her in the Spanish moss and as through a flower garden she plowed…
She thought I wouldn’t notice when she moved up to the clouds.
But I was undeterred…I was in a child-like groove
I kept my eye on that elusive wind and watched her every move.
And when she descended from the clouds…I felt a little proud…I must admit
as I put my hand upon her shoulder…smiled…and said, “Tag! You’re it!”
The wind, however, does not give up easily…once again…without making a sound
she snuck up behind, nudged me forward and knocked my hat onto the ground.
I spent the rest of that morning walk…at the beginning of my week…
playing with the wind…her version of tag and hide-and-seek.
But since my old legs were sore …from all that running…and physical abuse
tomorrow I’ll ask the wind to play something a little less strenuous…
perhaps Red Rover…Ring Toss…or Duck Duck Goose.
Abuse
So much more than what you do
So much more than what you say
There is the abuse of silence...
Deathlike silence
Abuse of your soul
Abuse of you heart
Abuse of your mind
You’re nothing
Insignificant
Not worthy of the gift of words
Not worthy of the expenditure of effort
Not worthy of the usage of time
Silence
You're a non-entity
Lower than dirt
At least people clean the dirt off
At least they touch it
They focus on it
But you are lower than that
Silence
No comfort for pain
No praise for insecurity
No love for renewal
Nothing but silence
Physical abuse
Verbal abuse
Emotional abuse
All are focused
All are active
In a strange twisted way
The objects of abuse realize
That there is some demon
Unleashed upon them
Because they exist
They are an innocent testimony
Of all the abusers are not
And so the monster is unleashed
Furious because they are
Beautiful
Young
Innocent
Pure
Wise
Attractive
They exit
Reminders of what the abusers are not
But the abused ones of silence
Have nothing
Are nothing
Not even
Worth the effort
They are not important enough
For wasted breath or emotion
Silence
Your silence
Has left me wounded
Incomplete
Tainted
An ugly heap of uncertainty
A mass of insecurity
I'm ruined for life
For I carry the scars
of your abuse
Your silent abuse
of my heart
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I think verbal abuse is worse than physical abuse. Physical abuse usually has a timeframe for healing. A cut can heal in a few days. A scratch can scab just over a few hours... But mental damage from verbal abuse? That can take anywhere from months to years. I was physically hurting from being mentally abused. Pain worse than grief for death. Pain worse than losing a parent because I lost myself too. I had to find myself and meet the new me. The new me was a stranger, I had to get to know her, learn her boundaries and her triggers. I realized that the old me deserved better and the new me would have better; Change is scary at times, but being loved by someone who doesn't love themselves is even scarier. Go for the unfamiliar! Accept the better because you do deserve it!