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Nov 2014
It's the same dark evening
I've grown accustomed to.
The terror of approaching footsteps
(for me) is nothing new.
A drunken holler at the door
sends a chill down my spine.
I know it is time again
to face the wrath of cheap wine.
With trembling hands and a racing heart
I fumble at the door.
My body tries its best to resist
the abuse it has endured before.
Yet, against my wishes
the door is now ajar.
The man who comes barging in
is terrifying even from afar.
With no barrier between us
and pure rage in his eyes,
he does what I expect
and erupts into wild cries.
"YOU *****", he screams
(the man that I'd wed)
whilst charging at me,
(his humanity-all shed).
Blow after blow
he plants on my frame.
Slaps, kicks and punches
have become his favorite game.
Each humiliating strike
that I wordlessly embrace
attacks my dignity
until is left no trace.
After his outburst
(an everyday tale, of late)
he staggers off to bed
(his newfound best mate)

Now I'm alone,
beaten and bruised.
The pain of mental hurt
overpowers the blood oozed.
Is this it then?
The reward for being nice?
My kindness taken for cowardice
non-violence paying its price?
Is it my FAULT then,
to be born a girl?
Is it reason enough
for all atrocities he hurls?
I lift myself up
to take a deeper look at me.
Features lost in bloodshot red,
there is nothing left to see.
I drag myself to bed now,
It already is very late.
I wait for sleep to carry me off
to a land of better fate.
#domesticviolence #sexism #hurt #pain #abuse
Amrita Dutta
Written by
Amrita Dutta
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   Amrita Dutta
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