Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2016
The beatings were never super brutal. They were just the rough thud of her working out her frustration. The real pain came when I resisted or when I expected something better. The moment I forgot who and where I was she would remind with the belt, a ***, a boot, a wooden paddle, the broom handle, or whatever implement. The only way I could come out a winner was to illustrate my anguish. I tried being strong but the stronger I was the more enraged she became. So, instead I gave her a way to feel more powerful, enough whines, whimpers, and tears to satisfy her rage but leave me less scarred then I might have been.
Not a poem but a memory.
Graff1980
Written by
Graff1980  43/M/Springfield Illinois
(43/M/Springfield Illinois)   
367
     Graff1980 and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems