This poem is for every woman that made it,
Who’s life did not end,
With them laying in a casket.
The pain and shame you felt,
You were too proud to admit,
Lying to the police,
Because you were afraid to tell them,
Of the crimes he commit.
Walking around with kit glove,
Don’t’ know when he would break out into a fit,
Because you know, you would be the first one,
That would get hit.
And you laid in the hospital,
Doctors fixing your broken arm,
And the lip his fist split,
You silently ask yourself,
How could you have married this lunatic.
This poem is for the women that hid it so well,
Victim of domestic violence,
You thought no one would believe you,
Who could you tell?
How many times did you give them the same excuse,
‘Girl could you believe I tripped and fell.’
But your kids already knew,
They saw when daddy made mommy’s eyes swell,
They remember when all he did,
Was hit and yell.
Seeing them begging him to stop,
Made you wonna take your own life,
Anything to leave this hell.
And willing to give anything,
Just to be free of him,
Even your soul you would sell.
Remembering your mama warned you of him,
You had to show her you were grown,
So you rebelled.
This poem is for every woman that made it through the rain,
A new beginning for you,
No more pain.
Or nights
