Odium of Myself - Poem

Odium of Myself

A clenched fist, an open hand – to hit and punch
A slipper, a boot – to kick a wounded or disobedient soldier into touch
A cane, a plank of wood – to remind me just who is in charge
A metal ruler, a heavy book – objects that just happen to be at hand
A belt, a chain – to beat sense into me or to secure me to the bed
A chair, a table – when tensions really soar
A flower vase, a bottle – thrown in haste
Teeth, nails – to scratch and bite, little warnings nothing more
Rope, tape, anything that will bind – I am a prisoner fixed to one point in time, a place where there is no hope of escape
A knife, sharp and shinning – held to my throat – my only though is death, darkness – the end - escape

I hide beneath the bed covers hoping that you cannot see me
I pray that I am invisible at least to the naked eye
I long for the darkness to engulf me and sweep me away, like a boat that has lost its anchor and is bobbing helplessly out at sea
To melt into the mattress, like snow and ice on a warm day
To disappear forever into another more pleasant caring world
A world of laughter and joy, music and gaiety
I hold my hands to my ears to block the shouting
The screams that echo in my mind, piercing my remaining sanity
I shut my eyes, blinded by fear
My mouth glued shut, paralyzed
My limbs numb, lifeless weights that do not obey my silent commands
Anchored to the cold sheets, frozen, useless
I am nothing more than a puppet with you pulling my strings
A rag doll coming to life only when you demand

Every day a waking nightmare that follows the same torrid path
Imaginary thorns tug at my flesh, gouging holes miles wide in the fabric of my very being

Love, what is love?
A throw away word uttered out of duty and remorse
A meaningless word, four letters that cut to the very core, nothing more than a sharp knife drawing a line of blood from my pale tender skin
Blood that runs red like a river across my body, over the white sheets that adorn my bed and onto the floor
Red footprints a guide, a route map of my sad useless life
A sick word that falls from the tip of your tongue when you have me pressed down on the bed
I am a victim, a number, a body housing no soul, I am nothing

Stains mark my face, my bed, my life
Tears fall like a waterfall from my tired eyes
I choke them back as best I can
Sleep a luxury I can ill afford
I am a guard on duty twenty-four-seven
A creak on the floor outside my bedroom door
The gold door knob turning before a bright dazzling light encircles me from the outside world
Voices raised, angry footsteps marching away on the stairs
Doors slamming marking your return to my world

Bruises cover my fragile body, a map of where you have been
My arms, legs and torso blackened by years of beatings
Hand prints, bites, belt marks – scars too deep to heal
They can only fade to resurface on another day
Rope burns from the bindings you have used to stop my escape
A neat pattern of marks winding around my wrists and ankles, refreshed day after long day
Bones moulded together by time just waiting to be fractured all over again

You stand before me nothing short of a monster
You look at me and all I see is the devil in human form
Eyes piercing and dark, like the eyes of a ravenous bird waiting to feed on its prey
Your hands twitching like you are eager, can’t wait to get started on today’s fun and sick games
I notice other things, changes in your posture, your mood, your breath
I do not look too closely at other things, I would rather not see, rather not know
Your warped smile sickens me to my stomach
I just want to die

I note the time on the clock by the bed, something you have not used as a weapon yet
The seconds ease by so slowly, becoming minutes then an hour
You beat me, hit me, bite me, laugh at me
Make me perform the most horrific of tasks
Ridicule me, swear at me then tell me you love me
I do not fight back, I am submissive – that is how you like me to be
Bile rises like a tidal wave into my dry throat

The eyes watching me from the door flicker with distain and mild amusement
I dare not think what else passes in and out of your mind as you watch me wither and perform to endless commands
I should get an award, a medal, a statue in some unimportant square
Recognition for my services, my faked acting skills, my broken heart
For being damaged beyond repair

No one rushes to help me, to rescue me, to save me from this hell
It is all a game and I am the pawn
You are a hunter and I am the prey
I am a slave, trapped in a cage made of bricks and mortar
Locks on the windows, a bolt on the door
No phone, no friends, no relations that call
I am in a place – I think it is known as hell