Rain pounds on the window,
At an even pace.
Staring at it blankly,
Tears run down her face.
There was beauty in it,
The woman had supposed.
But maybe it'd be better,
Had he not proposed.
If she'd just said no,
Maybe she would see,
As her days passed by,
How pretty life can be.
Maybe she'd grow old,
With a handsome guy,
And as they gently fell asleep,
In his arms, she'd die.
Then she would be happy,
Without this wicked sir,
He'd pushed her, whipped her, cut her,
And now she was quite sure --
She needed to get out of there,
She needed to be free.
As he slept, drunk on the couch,
She slowly tried to leave.
Making her way tow'rds the door,
Silently, she cried,
Though she was still breathing,
Inside, she had died.
All the painful beatings,
Her skin, it was so worn,
He'd thrown her, kicked her, shoved her,
And now her heart was torn.
Her past, it didn't matter,
All she wanted was her life.
She'd leave him in the cold, dark room,
She asked herself, "A wife?"
Pondering it now,
She found she didn't know,
What it meant to be a wife,
To fin'lly have a home.
Were you supposed to beat your wife?
Were you supposed to hurt her?
She walked towards her freedom,
Released a muffled murmur.
"A wife is one you love,
You'd risk your life for she.
You'd give up everything you have,
Just so she could breathe.
Always say "I love you,"
And give a kiss goodnight.
In a world of darkness,
Her love should be your light.
Marriage isn't just a paper,
No, it is much more,
Finally, I'll know what love is,
When I walk out this door."
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories And Such
PoetryJust a collection of short stories and poems that I have written. Some are fictional, some are based off of my own life. I guess I'll just have to leave you to imagine. Disclaimer: As with all poetry, not all of these are about myself and I do not c...
