Over the last few days, I have written a series of poems about a trying time in my life.  A time that looking back I find it hard to believe I ever went through.

The thing is I went through it, and since it occurred I have had a lot of trouble talking about it, thinking about it, and even writing about it.  It still makes me feel ashamed of myself and my past, but all that does is let the abuse continue on.

I have often just overlooked it as my overreaction to a series of events that took place over 5 and a half years of my life.  I brushed aside the warnings of others that saw something was wrong in favour of my detrimental situation.  I took each guilt trip, each harsh reaction to me finding enjoyment in life as my punishment for not having her with me while I was enjoying it.

I watched her spend time with her friends, take lavish vacations without me, and buy nice things that only she could use with our money while I sat at home alone, waiting for her to say it was alright for me to come with her.  Sure I was never hit, not until she realized I was leaving did she react with violence, but the last straw was the morning I woke up to her holding a pillow over my face.  From that moment I had no choice but to leave, no matter what it took.

It still hurts when I get to thinking,

Those mistakes enough to start me drinking.

Seeing the places I let myself go,

Hard to believe that I didn’t know.

Thinking about all the signs of trouble to come,

And remembering the drop from where I came from.

Such a big change in so little time,

That someone knocked me down so far, a great crime.

Thinking about the struggle to fight my way out,

Always dragged back in by my own doubt.

Trapping myself in that poisonous situation,

Locking myself in with my own frustration.

Thinking about it, I can feel the pain again inside.

From it I’ve never been able to hide.

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