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Hidden Bruises!She hid her face from the world, So they could never see her shame, The beatings, the black and blue bruises, That happened over and over again! There was always an open door, Or a broom that hit her in the eye, A bucket that she fell over, And no-one ever asked her why. I'd see her crying alone, And tell her to run away, But he always said he loved her, And so she'd always stay! I'd hear her at night in her bedroom, While he was down at the pub, Playing the loving husband, As only that man could! He'd beg forgiveness every time, And she would always succumb, And every day he beat her more, And every day he won! But the last time that he beat her, Was his worst mistake! For I stood 6ft before him! I saw him physically shake! The tables had finally turned, He was now the abused! And as I ran him out of the house, I shouted after him; ‘Dad, you lose!' My mum has now moved on, She met a new man in her life, A good-hearted soul, loving and giving, And mum lives in peace and no more strife! I hear he's no married! And has a lovely new wife, But she's not seen nor heard of, It seems she lives the ‘quiet' life! Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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