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About the painful life of an abuse victim.

The stinging blows seem to make
the body numb after a while,
Just about the time the head
was thrown against the tile.

It didn’t let up, sometimes for hours
the torture would go on,
The wounds re-opened and bleeding,
the senses totally gone.

Tired as a worn out sofa,
the face a scarred façade,
No life left inside to feel
anything but odd.

The battle wounds would eventually heal
on the body outside so torn.
Lasting memories of years gone by,
a life of pain to now mourn.

Years have passed since it all stopped,
but the heartache is still so real.
Never does the pain all go away,
not even long after scars heal.

The nightmares wake the soul from slumber,
re-living the horror night after night.
It all makes the life seem unworthy,
nothing again ever really seems right.

Self-hatred tears into the heart, and
self-blame is a daily role.
Feelings that lead to desperate cries,
The cries of a tortured soul.