Oct 21, 2016

The Watchman

Under his watch no one could find her;
she touches the mirror with migraine knuckles.
Things will change tomorrow as her knees silently buckle,
How strong would she be if she loses her family?
O' the beautiful handbags and expensive things,
Under the watchman nights of rage cross the lines.
She awakens to bitter shadows and burning pupils.
She would make it better with an aspirin,
as the pain travel
When it's cloudy the imaginary sun blooms the room.
She is marching , singing his tune; she is playing the fool.
For how long? My dear child hide yourself!
Mama will survive as the doctor prescribes a mild sedative.
Sleep comes easy, drowsy evenings of paralyzed fear,
A hesitant hand gingerly strokes her rear.
She panics for the monster is near; the one who screams at the kids.
The one she lies for behind the bricks and green grass.
His smell is foul; his look is wild and crazy,
Peace will reign when the alarm goes off,
O’ to dance on egg shells,
There's not a story to tell for she’s committed to insanity.
And breakfast is his validity with black whistling,
red sarcasm, and  muddy kisses.
If only she could wash her sins away, take back a decade of yesterdays.
It’s too late as she walks past the mirror.
Her feelings are bent like a step child.
She paces the steel ground as she imagines a new life
in a closed mind. Yet, she continues to leave herself behind.

jhp©2013-2014

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month
Stop the cycle of abuse


No comments:

Post a Comment