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