What has my life come to?
Empty liquor bottles line the counter,
Half empty beer cans sitting anywhere they could fit.
Plastic cups littered the room,
Leaving behind the stench of alcohol.
Teens grinding against each other,
Music blaring in the background.
All the while she was gone.
In a bedroom,
Crying,
While the man who'd hurt her sat right downstairs.
The man who'd bruised her,
In places only she could see.
Her naked body limp under the dark covers,
Alone in the small room.
Silently crying,
Wishing to die.
But she didn't.
She had to live with the pain.
YOU ARE READING
Cry
Poetry100 word stories. - warning! Talks about suicide, self harm, abuse, etc. read at your own risk. this is your only trigger warning. -
