She is ripped away from life slowly.

Her flesh. Her soul. Her eyes. Her heart.

Yet she stays put, to remain holy.

A girl so naïve and scared to part.

She has memorized the patterns of alcohol,

trying hard to avoid the knuckles and blood.

When the anger overcomes, he makes her fall,

painful blows, initiating tears like a flash flood.

Every Sunday morning they both attend church,

she prays wholeheartedly, while he stares at her in disgust.

Hoping to find joy once again, to be able to stop the search.

But where is God when she needs him? When she feels like she's going to combust?

Maybe one day her soul will find true peace,

her body won’t be torn at and scarred, her light will not decrease