I return home
And enter my own personal war zone
Where I battle as if I’m in army fatigues daily
F-bombs dropped constantly
My house is far from home
Far from comforting
This is his domain
His region
His kingdom
And I’m just a lowly peasant
Plowing his fields, reliably
And my king?
He rules cruelly
He has no love for me
But claims he does
And shows it with every blow he deals
Verbally
Emotionally
Mentally
Physically

Physically…
Physical blows, physical wounds
The ones that show the most
Hurt the least
Easily covered up
They can be hidden
But the scars inside? They shape me into a broken woman
I can’t hind from me
And I can’t hold off the feeble attempts to justify what I know is wrong
But he loves me…
And these issues we’ll get through…
Right?

Late nights
I muse and contemplate
Plan my escape
After he sleeps
I sit up dear dairying
My only form of release
Because I am trapped here
Thrown underground as he believes I should be
A prisoner of my own personal war
I am subjected to daily torture
Every time I open my eyes
Every time I enter that door
But see I cry visibly no more
All the tears beaten out of me…
I cross the threshold
And here are the words that define me
Call me punching bag
Dumb bitch
And come here you fucking SLUT, ima SPLIT YOUR GODDAMN LIP!
And I become detached
And huddle into the miniscule piece of existence he’s carved and whittled me into
The great big hulking chunk of nothing I’ve come to be
And hope that today he just might kill me
And hope that today is the day he’ll make it all stop
I WISH THAT IT ALL WOULD JUST STOP!
I can make this stop…