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Ghosts In the Hall

A poem from the victim's perspective; to spread awareness of Domestic Violence and whom it affects.

By Stephanie KeeseePublished 7 years ago 1 min read
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WARNING:This poem is an inspired expression inspired by the struggle of Domestic Violence and is meant to honor survivors and victims of domestic violence. It does however contain material that may be triggering to some who have undergone trauma. Read with this in mind. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and any similarities to persons, places and subjects that exist are unintentional.

I crawl across the cold floor

My fragility is showing

You ask “what are you doing?

Come on babe where ya going?”

Wasn't that just you

Was that not my body you were throwing?

Into the wall

You are standing tall

As my screams turn to gasps

While you try to take it all

I scream for help “please call 911”

My voice penetrates the halls

The neighbors hear my screams

They hear my body as it falls

Ghosts and pain

Screams in vain

My voice penetrates the halls

It leaves a mark on the world

You leave no marks at all

I go for help and they laugh

You're crying wolf, doll

If he hits you then leave

You must have done something wrong

To make him grieve

He must have a reason

What did you do

Get out of my court

I don’t have time for you

I walk away

I go back

I might as well accept my fate

I tell myself I was right but it is too late

His hands around my neck

As I pray

Try to curl up to survive

The look of pleasure as he strangles me

The satisfaction in his eyes

Blackness overcomes me

I am his forever

Now cops, judge family

Do you all feel clever?

I needed your help

I needed strength

Not mockery and laughter

Now I am silent

I am still as my connection to this world;

He finally severed.

I had dreams

I wanted to help mothers

I had children

We loved one another

People weep at my wake

Why didn’t she just get help

For her children’s sake

Now he is in jail

But why was it her he had to take

We are so sorry we ignored you

I wish I could have her back

Why could we not see through

His lies and notice the attack

That he was hurting her

That she was trapped

Now there are children

Without her; lives no longer intact

Why didn’t we help?

Why did we not act

Was it money, education

Or common sense she lacked?

Now there Is no changing this

There Is no going back

Now her ghost haunts the halls

Going over the facts

Reliving the violence

Feeling her throat smashed

She wanders lost

Because of her lover's hands

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About the Creator

Stephanie Keesee

I write poetry, short stories in the genres of children's fiction, adult sci-fi/fantasy and horror. On occasion I may write cultural commentaries, inspirational articles, how to articles and fashion related articles.

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