TOPIC: "Hell is empty and all the devils are here."-William Shakespeare
Title: A beautiful Struggle
I'm his little miss Loveable – I do no wrong,
A locket of life – I'm his gift...His charm,
I live those songs fairy tales comprise,
Open arm embrace...As I close both eyes.
A beautiful child birthed so tastefully,
Mother would die, still father would baby me,
Raised and cherished... Never begrudged,
Taught respect is earned and always beloved,
A gentle soul - with no wings exposed,
Yet he was tailored inside an angels mold,
This man's a saint, brushing hair from my face,
Whispering my beauty equals Helen's own grace,
I bend rules... Nearly snapping them in half,
He strokes my locks - teaching error in my path,
He indulges me in all my childish ways,
eating cheerios with the skies final sun ray,
He tucks me in, my cheeks press his lips,
this isn't earth, it's proof that heaven exists.
There's a demon in the closet - potent as ever,
His content is sipped – Angelic ways severed,
He breads darkness... In a liquid form,
A spirit that will burn in the wettest storm,
It's not often he binges, I can't remember the last,
But I'm little miss speed bag, while emptying a flask,
Months go passed – it grew worse indeed,
I shake, I weep - I need safe sleep.
My physical's tarnished, my emotions are baggage,
I try to take flight, but I'm a victim of habit,
A Barbie behind bars isolated with trouble,
As barbaric hands stifle screams to muffles,
Gropes evolve - and squeeze a life to plead,
if the throat can't wheeze then drop to knees,
When allowed – Lungs will open wide for Oxygen,
Or the throbbing member injected like collagen,
back to gasping...Eyes swelling with tears,
I beg “mercy”!!! - In French he just says “cheers”,
“You're welcome my dear”. Then shreds my brassiere,
He gnaws the areola until skin is pierced,
“God if you exist, please take my life...
I pray to die” . - Ironic because, I'm the prey tonight.
Legs agape – pounded severely,
A fluid released, the demon is weary.
I'm his little Mrs. Punctual – always on time,
A locket of Life - instilled in mine,
I'm late, it's fine – nine months will pass,
And his Demonic wrath... Will break my cage at last.
The seed he bore... Deep in my being,
Might mean I'm mom...And die while birthing.