Image: – cannedimagination.tumblr.com
The first time hitting the wall shocked me
The second time hitting the wall stunned me
The third time hitting the wall I knew I was in trouble.
I have never known such anger
Even though ire was a way of life
Within the walls of our pretentious home.
It’s true what they say about people’s homes
None of us know what goes on behind front doors
We prefer to pretend an idyllic world.
But mine was far from perceived perfection
A well kept yard, well kept children
Well-kept house in a well-kept street.
But across the threshold rules abounded
Jobs were randomly allocated as if on whim
Mine were the ones the other thought below her.
So finding myself staring into the eyes of lunacy
Terrified me as I knew the potential,
But never thought control could be lost as it was.
Hands up, protecting your face, leaves you vulnerable
Attack from the front, bashing and bashing
The screaming, the torment, the ridicule unabated.
Children hide in bedrooms huddled together
Their personal agony revisited yet again
As blow rained down upon blow.
After I sit against the wall a bloodied mess
But my sacrifice saved a child tonight
My wounds will heal, but I worry about theirs.
While the monster rests exhausted from her tirade
I dress my wounds, hiding all tell tale evidence,
Shower and put on a new face to address a new day.