Domestic violence, at some time, happens to most of the women we know. But the closed doors help monsters live freely, guiltless, all proud. Scars to the body heal, scars to the heart do not, and yet, women don’t rise up against it. Because they are trained to love, regardless everything. But is it really worth?
He is a man.
A man my parents chose for me.
A man I fell in love with.
He is the man I bore two kids with.
And he is the man I shall always be with.
But my man hit me one day.
And he hit me hard.
My world crumbled to pieces,
And a little of me gone.
But I thought it’s a one-time thing,
And this too shall pass.
Things went fine till he was enraged again,
And then, I was at his mercy, again.
I pleaded, and he hit me more.
My lips bled, and my limbs sore.
It was something trivial, I don’t remember.
But he was furious. And a man.
And a man’s manliness gave me scars.
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His ego killed my self-esteem,
But he was the father of my children,
And my honor, my mother said.
She saw my bruises, and she cried.
But she said I had to bear,
And that sometimes you have to compromise.
And my wounds didn’t heal,
They bit me more now, but I loved him.
I wasn’t supposed to be opinionated,
I was a woman, and I shouldn’t disagree,
Let alone raise my voice.
I had no right to be rational,
Or actually, be anything except his shadow.
My existence shall be his dominion,
My individuality my doom.
But we were happy again because he did love me.
He cared, and we shared,
But only till I did not inflame him again,
He locked me up in a room,
And my boys cried outside.
He ripped off his belt,
And slammed me hard, right on my thighs.
And I could see the pain in his eyes.
He said I compelled him to hit me.
He loves me, but I wrong him,
And then he can’t do anything but beat me.
And he kept slapping me.
Once, twice, thrice.
Till my face turned blue.
Till I could breathe no more,
I fell at his feet, all of me drenched.
He pinned me against the wall,
My arm contorted behind my back.
It hurts him, he said.
But he did not stop.
Because I deserved it,
Because nothing better to teach me lessons,
Than his finger imprints on my face,
And blemishes on my back.
I begged, and he ceased.
Every single of my mistakes flashed in my mind.
He saw the terror in my eyes,
Terror that would keep me sane for a while,
Before I question his authority again,
And then he would give me the dose again.
And that was the man I married.
That was my man,
But so unsure of his manliness.
The man who couldn’t be a man.
But I loved him,
And he said he loved me too.
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