Standing here all withered and poor,

hoping and praying down to my core,

Walking through the house i love,

Hoping and praying to the man above,

Hiding my pain through practised smiles,

whilst combating these gruesome trials,

And as his fist comes down hard,

Its time again to put up my guard,

My face crimson with bruises and blood,

I hid my pain has hard as i could,

Other people they just don’t care,

Like a show they stop and stare,

Should i run?

Or should i stay?

I’m pretty sure he would find me one day.