Bruises
Written by delicate flowerPresent in the heart of every abuse victim
I am a victim of domestic violence
My name doesn't matter, because, you see, I have no identity.
I am a possession, an object, a thing to be controlled.
My likes and dislikes are his likes and dislikes.
My only need is to keep the peace.
Why do I stay? I don't know.
Maybe it's because I believe him when he says he loves me.
Maybe because I don't think I deserve any better.
Or maybe because I am too confused to go.
But my pain is real.
Where are my bruises, you ask.
My bruises don't show.
My bruises are on my soul.
© delicate flower
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All rights reserved.
This article may not be reproduced
in any form without express written
consent from the author.