My Anne
He puts his hand up about to strike,
I do not duck, I do not hide.
For if I tell him to take a hike...
it would be just the same to of died.
He makes me tremble, he makes me cry,
and so I lock the door to the bathroom
hoping that he will just walk by.
I do not fear this man of hate,
for fear makes him grow stronger.
I would be gone to his own fate,
but instead I live longer.
He dares not bruise me on my face,
arms or legs. For the high class at the Country Club would see me as a disgrace.
Where the group of elite
meet and eat...
they do not see me nor do they care.
All they do is gossip and stare.
No one can see my broken rib,
or last weeks slash from a knife.
For if they did he would make me fib,
and I know if I didn't he would take my life.
I conceal this secret like a letter,
though after each day I cry even more
only hoping for it to get better.
All that keeps me going is Anne,
or else I would have him finish the job.
She knows I am her biggest fan,
her mother, her coach, her favorite-- her corn on the cob.
When he brings a tear to my face she draws it away with her crayon.
We need to leave him,
not only for me but for my only hope.
My Anne, She brings light to the dim.
She is the only thing that helps me cope.
Whenever I think of running away,
I freeze, and the car stays parked.
For the memories of another day get in the way.
Just like memories the scars keep me marked.
I want to make him pay...
but yet I love him and do not know why.
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