He hits me with a brick
Says I don't deserve this face
He kicks me in the gut
Whispers that I'm a waste
He shuts me in this room
Tells me to shut them up
He looks me in the eyes
Says I'm not strong enough
But I get this sensation that he doesn't understand
I listen for those words to come
From those banshees in my head
The ones screeching to rip apart
To make what pains me dead
But he won't leave me alone
When the red eyes stare down at me
Are we real, is it fake?
Leave me to my misery
There's just this glint of hope that I don't understand
I feel it in my heart and soul
Each nightmare feels more real
Torment me with murder, dear
There's nothing I won't feel
Please, rip my shirt from my breasts
As you take my soul again
I can't escape my living hell
I cannot make this end
He hits me with the brick
I feel pain, my bones fracture
He kicks away my dreams
Of my happily ever after
He shuts me in my room
But I force my hand to stop the door
He tries to break my soul
But I don't deserve this anymore
Author notes
I don't really feel this one needs any explaining, but I like to hear myself talk, I guess. This poem is more or less me trying to get back into MY poetry. All the formulaic parts of tone of poetry I write are there, perhaps a lot more rhymy than usual, but I'm also here with it all, which is a place I haven't been in awhile.
My protagonist, played by your's truly, isn't me. It's a persona completely different from my own that I am acting the part of. If it isn't blatantly obvious, she's female, perhaps the antagonists daughter or spouse, I'm leaving that to you, as I'm doing with most of the rest of it. Another element I wanted was ambiguity. Is the brick real? Is it not? I want one to be led to believe that the protagonist is actually being tortured and beaten in such a way, but at the same time, if she's hearing voices -- acting upon them, even -- who's to say... anything in this piece is real?
And that's the character I wanted to act out here. What do you believe?
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