There are bruises all over. 

 

I try to hide them, because I am ashamed,

 

But people still see them. 

 

I can tell by the looks that I get. 

 

Some are mixes of confusion and wonder. 

 

Some are just pity. 

 

When the bruises fade I feel like a normal person again. 

 

I can blend in with the crowd and pretend that I lead a typical life, just like everyone else. 

 

But then it happens again. 

 

The trigger that causes me to be outcast again. 

 

Maybe I do it to myself. 

 

Whenever it happens I pull away from everyone so that I can keep the secret. 

 

I won't lie to people, so I just don't speak. 

 

He wants me to lie. 

 

Tell them I fell down the stairs, ran into a door, just tell them something to stop the questions. 

 

But I refuse, even though that too causes bruises. 

 

I don't hate him for what he does. 

 

He isn't himself when it is happening. 

 

But I wish he could feel like a man without having to hurt me in the process.