This work goes with this poem I worte as follows.



She is on the shelf chipped and busted
where you lay her to rest.
Your words of hate shatter
her shell and she becomes weak.


What are you going to do?

Her tears are dry as she lays in silence
with no one to hear her ask for help.
Her mouth opens and nothing comes out
for she is empty, where you put her.


What are you going to do?



Beaten, lost, and hopeless she lays
waiting on the next day you come.
Ready to attack her for what she did.
Ready to attack her for what she did not do.


What are you going to do?

The broken doll watches in fear with the
words of hate yelled at her echoing inside.
Thinking to herself sometimes she would rather
be punched, because at least that pain goes away.


What are you going to do?

You attack; she braces for a wave of hate
and loathing with no use, it rains down.
With each word you vomit outward at her
a part of who she used to be dies.


What are you going to do?

Each time your fist bruises her skin
and she scream out begging you to stop,
a part of her turns to stone in the
birth of a woman you have created.


What are you going to do?

She feels nothing and she loves nothing.
Her clothes are torn; her face is scarred.
The only thing she has to herself is
the air she breathes, which you tried to take.


What are you going to do?

Tired and cold, she picks herself up slowly.
Standing on alone she waits for you.
To make the one mistake you will eventually make.
Ready to take your life in a single blow.


What are you going to do?

She has been pushed to the edge with nowhere to go.
She sits patiently, fighting off your assaults.
Clenching her fingers around your demise,
she leaps the moment your guard falls.


What are you going to do, when she hits back.



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