Just a Story

He's just another story,

and now I've reached the end.

 

He takes my hand,

Says he's sorry,

it will never happen again.

He holds me close,

says we'll never part.

 

"Cause he doesn't realize,

He's just another story,

and now I've reached the end.

Author's Note

My Mother did not raise me to be a punching bag for any man.
My Father taught me the physical skills to end it.
There is not second chance once you raise a hand to me.
Its "bye-bye, loser"

Reviews

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

fierce as the hand that struck~ your poem strikes back~ this I understand from the inside out~ youngling I endured 8 years of this~ after spending a year undergoing reconstructive craniofacial surgeries (10 in total) to put my face back together again~ I swore that if another male EVER raised his hand to me it would be the last thing he would do with that hand~
APPLAUSE for the inherent power that pours from your words~