I stand so still
As he shouts at me
Beats me
I don’t hear the words
As an idea forms in my mind
This time, will be the last
I can’t take any more
His days are numbered now
For years my life has been so hard
No more
No more abuse
He can’t hurt me now
I run to the kitchen
Grab a knife
As I walk back to his room
I wonder
What will happen once he’s gone
Without thinking
I plunge it into his chest
I don’t wait for the outcome
Instead I run out of the house
Into the street
And I stand in the bucketing rain
Thinking
What now
Where do I go?
I begin to walk
And never look back.
The Sunday Muse: Sunday Muse #243
Therapy Bits 
This is one of those times we need another button other than like. As a survivor of DV the feels are very real and have deep sense of rawness. You have nailed it, well penned.
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Thank you so much jez I am an abuse survivor so I get it completely. That is why I wanted to write it the way I did 😊💖💖
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Oh I get that, I do the same – the pen is the best therapist in the world. I have had some damn good therapists in my time, but the pen can say stuff I can’t..
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Yeah! I agree! Its wonderful to be able to write!
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Such an evocative piece Carol.
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Thanks, appreciate the comment. X
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My pleasure
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😍😁💗💗
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A poem that hits the heart indeed my friend!
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Thanks, Kerri 🤗😁
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God made poetry so we can safely vent. Happy you were able to get some of it out through this poem, Carol Anne.
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Thank you Lisa 🙂 I am very happy too, poetry is awesome ☮️☺️
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You’re welcome ❤
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😁😁💞💞
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Quite a powerful poem, carol anne!
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Thanks Xoxo
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