Battered!

Sad to know that it will always exist.

Fists.

I'd rather have his fists instead. 

Fists instead of the mental mind f**k going on in my head. 

He does love me,

he gets mad sometimes,

and we were meant to be.

Torn.

Am I seeking for crumbs of affection? 

Waiting for the courage to leave?

Bash his head in with a hammer while he sleeps? 

Author's Note

Not based on myself... but the pain and frustration is palpable.