she knows hes home
before he opens the door
she yanks back her sheets
and dives for the floor.
 the door slams,he stumbles in
at that point her trembling begins
hes drunk, no doubt, as he begins to curse
...him being drunk made it all worse.
 tears slide down her cheeks in similar streams
because no one ever hears her screams
her door opens wide to his dark shadow
in his hand, a belt, so much like gallows.
 hes shouting shes worthless,
hes shouting so mean
the same exact pattern
as it was in her dreams.
next comes his breath, smelly and warm
then theres the crack as her skin is torn
she knows better than to cry,
or to look in daddies eyes.
he just forgets when he drinks,
he hits first and then he thinks.
his daughter stands and takes it all
and waits until he leaves to fall.
because hes still daddy, her daddy, mine
and the beatings started when i was nine.
this is a poem, but its all true,
glad i could share my story with you