Word vomit

I wish there was a way to put you in my mind.

You could search for the answers in a place others can't find.

My words cant describe the things I want to say, so I'm writing this to you, so you'll understand some way.

He wasn't just a boy, but he was no real man.

I'll take you to how this whole thing began.

Sat on a sofa, laughing with a friend.

He hurled something at me, that was the start of the end.

It wasn't always like that, it had started very small.

He pulled my hair, made me sad, and demanded I answer if he were to call.

I was young, a child at best.

So I didn't put this story to rest.

I lingered in the book, analyzing every chapter,

Hoping one day I'd find my ever after.

Then he grew bigger, and much stronger than I.

I feared fighting back, I didn't want to die.

Then he'd pull me back in, his words were rich and captive.

I stayed for those bits, but still he was reactive.

He'd push, and pull, and poke, and prod,

Until I was the one screaming and praying to God.

Then he'd "forgive" me, and it'd all be alright.

But nothing could prepare me for what he did at night.

Waiting for me to be fast asleep, under the covers his fingers would creep.

I'd told him before, over and over, I didn't want him to see all my exposure.

So he'd get big, and his chest would puff out, and his eyes would go mad, lurking all about.

He'd threaten to leave, and find some other girl, or kill himself, so I gave it a whirl.

He got what he wanted, he smiled when I cried,

Sometimes I still wish I would've just died.

He'd tell me I looked nice, but that other girls were sexy.

I wanted to feel hot, so I'd spend hours getting ready.

I'd get done up, showing off my "assets",

But the most he did was put on a clean pair of sweats.

He wasn't just dirty, he was the opposite of clean.

From his car, to the house, and personal hygiene.

I was living is squalor, trying to stop the grime.

He'd come in immediately, and wreck it everytime.

Then he'd get angry, screaming in my face.

Telling me that I "didn't do enough around this place."

The last time he hit me was the most memorable of all.

He pounded on my face, my head, down my leg, it was a brawl.

I couldn't do a thing, so I sheilded my face and sobbed.

Because I feared to leave, all my innocence was robbed.

I cant let these things go yet, they're with me every day.

They're in my dreams, behind my eyes, no matter what I say.

I try my best to be strong inside, because my outside is deplorable.

I want to move on, but I don't think my psyche is restorable.

That's why your daughter is anxious about home,

She'll be back in that place, at the bottom of his throne.

I know he can't hurt me, not ever again.

But not forgetting these things is my greatest sin.

I cant forgive him yet, though I tell others that I do.

In times like this I really wish that I was more like you.

So now you have a fraction of why I can't let go.

I'll be okay, but I can't fix it, though.

At least not right now, but I pray all the time.

Don't worry too much, I'm fine