Once, I thought love existed,
For in a home of warmth I lived,
In stolen kisses and softness of
language,
In affectionate gazes and body
language.
I remember once my father
Brushed a kiss on my mother's lips
While I was playing spiritedly on
her lap,
I believed then that they loved each
other.
A few years passed that fondness,
And I was witness of a horrid moment,
When my father raised an arm of steal
To hit my mother fallen down her
feet.
Standing between them I cried,
"Please don't hit her. Daddy,
please!"
At that moment, in darkness he
turned away,
And out the door, he left us both.
Exploding in tears and sobs, my
mother said,
"He never wanted to hurt me, Oh
dear child,"
And from that moment on, my heart
began to break,
And in love or marriage I never
believed again.
When and if people ask me why
Don't I ever wish to marry?
I shall ask them to read
Words written in blood and tears.
© A Furious Child
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