Purple

A young girl now knows another cruel meaning to her favorite color, purple. (This is inspired by a news story, and my own fears of being in an abusive relationship with someone, although I am not.)

It was never like this.

I never always lived in fear.

I was always playing with the other kids,

my parents' loving arms always near

Locked in my bedroom, 

Wishing it was just a dream

Hearing punches, drunken yelling,

Mama's screams and cries,

Why can't he just leave?

My favorite color was always purple

It reminded me of my Grandma's

grapevines, her ethereal gardens

Of freedom and joy

We used to dance in them, until she died.

Now, the color paints my skin.

I try to help, but I can't

I try to hide, but I'm afraid

I cry, because I am not acquainted

With the monster my father is now

And I can't tell a lie

Why can't he just die?

Author's Note

It's been a while since I posted another poem on here. Once again, this isn't from my own personal experience, thankfully. However, from the experience of others, I feel inexpressible pain for the victims of something so horrible. All I can say is please, stay safe, and you don't have live in fear. Please get any type of help you can.