Always burning silence when your rage visibly surfaces.  Eggshells to walk upon to ensure the target flees.  There was a liquid fuel you drank to flame the pit of physical pain.  No words could succumb the alcoholic demon residing within.  No embrace,  no soft kiss not even apologetic sonnets for your past childhood blame.  

Though the fault was not my own,  I accepted it as mine.  My strength was not that of cement yet like cotton to break my falls.  My bones were shattered,  my cheeks still burns but my womb lay untouched, for the life within me gave reason to survive.  

I bore the notion of life,  a new conception,  one that gave freedom.  The one I live now.  The shackles I once embraced now rusted,  for the only jewels I now bare are little arms and sweet sweet voices filled with love.