He's a psycho, I know

This is really, just a poem of a broken heart and a broken body. Told from the view of the abused, and I hope it makes you feel something.

He came to me

So desperately,

He professed his love,

My heart fluttering as a dove.

At least, in my dream,

Which isn't a real scene.

Originally

He sat by me,

Looked me in the eye,

Said 'I want you to be mine.'

I thought it was romantic,

Really, it was just a tactic.

He never wanted me,

Just my innocent body.

Never spoke of dreams or a life,

Always backed down in a strife,

He put his hands under my chin,

And tried to pull me in.

I tried to break away

Every single day.

But he stuck to me like glue,

Very hard to undo.

Inside he's a psycho,

Which I now know,

But I never knew he was a jerk

Until he followed me to work,

Screamed to my friends;

'This is the day that it ends!'

He did what he does in the kitchen,

But this time, times a million.

He backed me, now in my place

And slapped me right across the face.

Then he shoved me to the ground

And beat me up and down.

Soon after it had begun

I heard the sirens of 911.

I saw him run out the back,

Just before my brain went slack.

I woke up hours later,

Hospital food my cater,

But concerned words hit me like a slap;

They said 'He will be back.'

Author's Note

This is, again, not a personal experience.