He stands as a man,
but inside a cowardice child.
He speaks with his fists,
for his words tend to be fumbled.
Enraged by the booze,
his fists are telling a novel.
They chatter away his tale of lifelong pain,
by bruising my face.
Weakening my defense for the real blow.
His eyes are set ablaze.
Bloodshot from the booze.
Eyes that could have shown warmth,
but chose anger instead.
They never leave my eyes,
and will never leave my nightmares.
Oh, those fiery eyes.
His lower parts have their desires.
With the booze’s help,
they eliminate all rational thoughts.
He is but a puppet,
the booze is his puppeteer.
He carries out his fantasies,
my body too weak to stop him.
His breath whispers in my ear.
The smell of the booze so strong.
Threats escape his odorous mouth.
Threats and names too vile to repeat,
but I will abide by them.
For all of my days I will be searching for him,
my nightmare, my reality.
I stand as a woman,
but inside a fearful child.
Author notes
I wrote this because I wanted him to see the truth he won't accept and the truth I can't deny.
A contest entry
- My Horror, My Dream. My Reality by x Simply x Me x.
425 points, ended August 5, 2008, 18 entries
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300 points, ended July 15, 2008, 33 entries
Silver trophy winner
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Honorable mention
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Comments
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great poem loved it good luck
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Excellent
All to often this seems to be the case. The drugs and booze, in the beginning a so called fun thing, turns into a rage that can not be controlled and the mate , sadly, excepts the abuse. Powerful write dear poet
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Thank you! I'm glad you liked it!
What you say is all too true!
I, unfortunately, know from experience.
Thank you for the comment, much appreciated!
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Wow. I must say I know this from experience. My mother's boyfriend was this way to her and she to him. This is amazingly written, and very deep.
I must take this time to THANK YOU for following the rules about putting the option you chose in your AN. I just got through three not following the rules so again thank you =] lol
Thanks for entering!
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