Dark red blood forms a puddle at my head, as my blood stains your dark brown hands,

I’m dead and I don’t quite know why, it’s a reason that I’ve yet to understand.

Your grinning smirk as you stood above me, with your hand raised to strike,

as I begged on my knees and prayed that you wouldn’t take my life.

The countless beatings, with the hidden bruises and broken bones,

All those hours you left me in the stifling attic, sitting all alone.

On the outside you were holy, a good man overall,

But on the inside you were overpowering, you left me feeling small.

The sting of your hand across my face, for you it was the last straw,

I stood up against you, and then it was the end for me,

For I am just a woman after all.