Damaged

A young woman is tired of living with abuse, after many years of it.

If she collected every bruise

Her body has ever showed,

She would be completely purple,

And she would just surely explode.

 

Explode with every emotion

That she's ever held in,

Explode with fear and sadness,

For every war she couldn't win.

 

If she collected every tear

That her blue eyes had ever shed,

She would drown in her own sadness,

But wouldn't mind being dead.

 

The people that were supposed to care for her,

Nurture her, and show her love,

Had never done any of those things

When push came to shove.

 

Well, after years of torture,

And being constantly put down,

She is about to leave her prison,

And never turn back around.

 

One day, she'll find love,

And a man who treats her right.

And she'll never be this sad again,

And never be in another fight.

 

She grabs the doorknob now,

Twists it, then pushes the door.

Naturally, she's a bit scared,

She's never been on her own before.

 

The feeling of independence,

Overwhelms her with joy.

Just to know she'll never be beaten again,

Like a child's old toy.

 

But to know that she's used goods

Just breaks her heart in two.

Who will ever love her?

Who? Who? Who?

 

Will she ever be loved?

No, of course not, she thinks.

The thought of being alone

Just makes her heart sink.

 

"The world needs one less person,"

She says to herself.

"And I'm just a broken plate

On the cabinet's shelf."

 

Her hope evaporates,

She lets her bags drop to the floor.

She walks into the kitchen,

With the thought she's known before.

 

She opens up the drawer,

And takes out the knife,

Then walks into the bathroom,

Preparing to end her life.

 

She runs the bath water,

She just want to be done.

She just wants to die with dignity,

But she has none.

 

With the bath filled up of cold water,

And the knife still in her hand,

She lets her life slip through her fingers,

As if it were only sand.

 

The blade to her skin is alarming,

And so is the blood that runs down.

But she's determined to die with a smile,

To not die with a frown.

 

The darkness surrounds her quickly,

But it's something she will embrace.

The darkness is somewhat comforting,

The pain is being erased.

 

An angel emerges from the darkness,

To take her to her home.

A home without pain, and sadness,

Her own silver throne.

 

The bruises are being erased,

The scars are disappearing.

There's music somewhere now,

And it's something she's not fearing.

 

On her naked body,

There is suddenly a gown,

And in heaven she is smiling.

She did not die with a frown.

Author's Note

If you're having a problem with abuse, please do not take the same road that the character in this poem took. I wrote this poem to raise awareness of suicidal women, who have been abused all of their life.

I am, as always, open to negative and positive comments. Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[LSS]

A wonderfully written poem; the progression easy to follow, and the sequence moves along to its conclusion, almost like a story. As always, when I read of abuse, especially to women, my heart bleeds with their misery. My helplessness at being unable to assist them becomes poignant and my only relief is to commiserate with them, maybe offer them hope and encouragement. You may not have had intimate knowledge of these events, but your insight is real and the passion that you write with made this poem memorable. Thank you for your voice.
LSS

[Ian Faraway]

I love it, a lot of stanza, but I love the story it tells and yes it's sad to be growing up to abuse and realize it's hopeless... not only for women but for a few men also. Hell I take crap every day because I've changed for the worse, but f**k it, I'm breathing and it's the way I fight my inner war. It shows emotion, sadness, happiness towards the end, imagery was perfect I think. Continue the good work! :D