Meet the new neighbors, what a lovely young pair,
He in a pressed suit and her with long flowing hair.
They've got the white picket fence, they're living the life
but something's amiss with the cute smiling wife.
She carries a secret so awful, so deep,
A woman broken and bruised at the hands of a creep.
Kept in a basement, labeled as chattel,
Treated not as human but a dumb piece of cattle.
She is his property, a lone prized possession,
Absorbing the punishment, but where's the transgression?
Her tears burst through the dam in a torrential flood,
Driven by the sight of the bruises and blood.
When they step out in public, he puts on a show,
Acting a perfect gentleman wherever they go.
Other women say "oh my, what a catch!"
As she manages to hide every deep cut and scratch.
He smiles and waves to them, what a great guy!
No one ever notices the look in her eye.
They are a beautiful couple, sharp looking and young,
Out on the town for some good wholesome fun.
It's there, the discomfort, the raging frustration,
But she holds it inside, lest she face devastation.
So she plays along with the fantasy, buries the strain,
Puts on a fake smile and suppresses the pain.
But how long can she go on with this awful routine?
"If only, if only the truth could be seen!"
She thinks to herself while committing the crime,
Waiting for an out, biding her time.
She has only one shot to break free and escape,
Away from the beatings and bruising and ****.
So she lays out every detail in her head,
Knowing full well if she fails, she's dead.
After a couple of months, she chooses her time,
Takes a deep breath and puts her life on the line.
In the darkness of night, she makes for the outside,
Suddenly she hears him: "where do you think you'll hide?"
He was already on to her, aware of the plot,
And he lashes out with every ounce of sweat that he's got.
By the time he is finished she's crushed to the core,
"That ought to teach you, you stupid young *****!"
So it's back to the basement, back to the cell,
Her own little desperate corner of hell.
Her master is so furious, angry and seething,
But by some freak occurrence she is still here and breathing.
For the next 15 years he robs her of joy,
She is his precious, his plaything, his toy.
It finally ends one day when the cops storm the place,
And walk out her master in a display of disgrace.
Down at the station they don't really care.
They just need the facts, the who, when and where.
She may be battered, roughed up and burned,
But the folks who surround her just seem unconcerned.
Walking out of the precinct a cool wind passes through,
She cinches up her jacket and thinks: "Now what will I do?
I've had my sprit torn from me, for twenty odd years,
am I just supposed to forget the dark and the fears?"
Despite every bit of it, she won't give up the fight,
though she still finds it ******* a quiet, long night.
Master's been put away now, a life sentence times three
She's away from his grasp but will she ever be free?