Verbally

Sickening deviance filled his head.
Taking no interest in desperate pleas.
Twisting fate with little haste.
All she can do is lay aside in wait.

A blade? A fist? No, nothing like this.
No bruises, no marks, at least outside her heart.
Chiseling his words into sharp perfection
Obsession deep within, caressing his sin.

A thousand slashes mark her heart.
Broken now, falling a part.
Locked inside the darkness he spins.
Restricted from her own view.
She has become his dying muse.

Lashing out, forced words depart.
Tearing her into his art.
Spite trembling at his hate
Hoping she'll make it, one more day.

Starved of affection, growing faint.
Remembering all the Saints.
Suffering in the world of hate,
"Just one more day."

Weakened from his abusive mind.
She walks in silence by his side.
Clearly everyone can see, brutality.

Hands covering lips, they share fear.
Looking upon her face,
Still dancing in place.
Refusing to bring her grace.

"One day we'll hear she's dead.
Left to waste inside his head."
"What shall we do, but wait.
It is not our fate."

Cowards replace common valor.
Even upon the witching hour.
Watching as if sinister ministers
Preaching to their friends,
Meaningless criticisms.

Left to tears, pain drowns.
As they shake out their frowns.
"What's wrong with her?"
"Does she not know, that in this world,
She can be her own hero?"

As if a sin to help someone mend.
They all stand still waiting to see
If she will survive past he.

An act, a scene, maddening.
Forgetting their part.
Viewing her as some failed art.

Weakened, past her own recovery.
She waits for someone to see,
That a little help, is all she needs.