At night she sits, with tears in her eyes.
Recounting the events, that play in her head.
But why does she cry?
How can it be that the love can be so painful.
Love was beautiful, love was ecstasy.
Not screams in the night or arguments, fights.
She relives her mothers life.
How did she get here, what did she do wrong?
Blood slowly trickles from her forehead,
As the tears stream down her face.
He was angry, She was wrong.
Trying to think what to do differently,
trying to think how to make him happy.
Part of her wants to run,
Part of her wants to stay.
“I’ll run to mom”
but she will tell her to stay.
“I’ll run to my friends.”
but they will take him away.
Not knowing that love is not suppose to hurt.
Not knowing that she can move on.
Not knowing she don’t need him by her side.
Not knowing her greatest weakness,
can be her greatest strength.
Not knowing she can get up and leave.
Not knowing that love is not lived that way.
Just knowing that she has to stay.
Knowing it’s going to happen again.
Knowing he’s not going to change.
Deep in her heart she wants that to be a lie.
Knowing she can potentially die.
Knowing she is alone.
Knowing that there is no love at home.
Her tears stream like rivers down her cheeks, mixing with sweat and blood.
Dear Lord if she only knew,
that you where by her side.
That your hand was stretched out waiting for her to take it.
That you could give her the strength to survive.
That she can stay alive. but…
Her strength is gone,
Her heart shattered to pieces.
The bruises, cover her body, cover her soul.
She is broken.
SHE IS HURT.