He pulls me along, I try to resist,
There at the edge, a deep, dark abyss.
He pushes me, and I fall, and fall, and fall,
I try to hang on as I hear your voice call.
But no good. Nothing to cling to, nothing to hold,
And my body shivers. Why is it so cold?
Thought hell was supposed to be torturously hot,
Perhaps I was somewhere else, perhaps not.
I finally land, amazingly on my feet,
But as I look around, I want to retreat.
There he stands, blood gushing from his chest,
So intimidating in life, more so in death.
A knowing grin, the blink of his one good eye,
Standing before him, I knew not to cry.
My hands behind me nervously shake,
And terror ripped through me, like a great earthquake.
You will never escape me, you will never be free,
You will have no peace; I will always haunt your memory.
There will never be a love in your life at all, but in the distance,
I can still hear your voice call.
He extended his arms and reached for my hair,
Tears filled my eyes, but I could only stare.
The memories all flashed before my eyes,
and I felt it again, being drug across the floor deep in the night.
Handfuls of hair, scattered across the floor,
The blood from my head as it was bashed against the door.
The butt of the pistol as it come crashing upon my head,
over and over, and over again.
I could feel the blood, I could see it from the corner of my eye,
and I knew, not to cry.
Each day with you that passed,
I wondered if death would find me at last.
I remember the bloody nose, over something so small,
and now that your gone, you still haunt my thoughts.
Give me my soul back, let me be free,
I want back my life I want new memories.
I want to love again, I want to live,
I gave you my life, what more can I give.
He calls for me, please let me go,
I want my heart back; I want my soul.
© Cynthia Clark