A poem combating domestic abuse & suicide..

My Life & Counting

“One day I will live happily ever after,” I remember telling Mother,
“You’ll never meet a man,” laughed one sister to another,
“One day I’ll own two love birds,” I stood up and told them proud,
“You’ll never have the money,” my brother shouted loud.

“I will love you until forever,” he told me that sunny day,
“Three months is far too short,” I hid my sad face away,
“Happy fourteenth birthday,” they sang around that table,
“thank you” I replied holding back the tears that I was able.

“I want you to be my wife,” he grinned a threatening smirk,
“Five years I have been with you,” yet still it wouldn’t work.
“You’re the girl for me,” he spluttered onto my cheek,
“But you’re not the man I need,” I wish I could just speak.

“Six years of happy marriage,” my mother was so proud,
“if only you knew dear mother,” my life veiled with a shroud.
“He earns a good wage,” father patted me on the back,
“I know,” I whispered quietly, wishing my life had stayed on track.

“I loved you far too much,” he smacked my face so hard,
“But…” I couldn’t speak, my face red and cut and marred,
“I’m leaving, I’m going away,” he stormed out of the house,
“I’m sorry,” I wept silently, listening to the song of the titmouse.

“The eighth of July,” Mother told the priest as he stepped out,
“I will ring you later on,” he nodded solemnly avoiding the rout,
“hello,” she greeted all nine of them with a broken smile,
“We’re here to take the body” the medic said after a while.

“ten others have gone this way,” the policeman told my mother,
“It’s becoming a common thing in one way or another,”
“he was a lovely boy, they met when she was seven,
he had blonde hair, that turned brown as he reached eleven.”

“I’ll miss you now, my darling, my angel,” my mother wept to me,
“I stopped you living you’re life and now I’m truly sorry.”


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