Saturday, 21 March 2015

For batter or worse by Grant Harbison

I lie in a crumpled heap
Curled on the floor
In the next room
The bastard snores
With trembling hands I touch my face
My feminine beauty he’s sought to disgrace
I stroke it gently with my fingertips
And feel the wetness of blood on my swollen lips
I try to get up
But cry out in pain
This is not the first time
It’s happened time and again
I’ve put up with this misery
I’ve put up with the shame
I’d even thought that I was to blame
Both those days are over
I won’t stand for it anymore
And when I get myself up from this wooden floor
I’ll make sure that bastard will snore his last snore

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