A child pale with fright,
And a slowly fading light,
A room bleak and swarmed with black.
A mother who's care for her child slowly starts to lack.
The demons start to show.
As the parents fight starts to go,
The child whispers, "No more, please'
But only to see the father stabbed the mother with the now crimson keys.
Witness to it all,
The child tries his hardest not to bawl,
But he does so in vain,
He watches his mother beaten with fist and blame,
The child sees the wounds bleed.
To his father, he tries to plead,
The child's eye, now impaled
He now has a "trophy" to show how he had failed.
Now he sees nothing right,
But sees all that is left.
Seeing the scars that show on his mom,
Scars that are mental, don't show on the boy now so calm.
I have been fortunate enough not to witness my parents get into fights or see my dad abuse my mom, but just because I never witnessed it doesn't mean that I am not aware of it. I am against it, and will never wish to be one of those people who abuse their spouses.