11 o'clock at night,
And her sunglasses are glaring
Off the kitchen knife.
She wields with a mission.
She's had enough.
For many years now,
Her husband's been too rough.
The bruises on her body,
Her green eyes turned black.
She's running to the hills,
And never looking back.
But it's just one thing,
That she can't let go,
As she stands over his unconscious body
And shuts the bedroom door.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC
11 o'clock at night,
And her sunglasses are glaring
Off the kitchen knife.
She wields with a mission.
She's had enough.
For many years now,
Her husband's been too rough.
The bruises on her body,
Her green eyes turned black.
She's running to the hills,
And never looking back.
But it's just one thing,
That she can't let go,
As she stands over his unconscious body
And shuts the bedroom door.
wrote this years ago.
