Black eyes bore deep into my soul;
Small voice quivers as the telling takes it toll.
Childish hands gently grasp my knee,
To command attention and force me to see.
The truth she airs invades my ears,
Rips my heart, confirms my fears.
It seems as though I am her,
Feeling the abuse she is forced to endure.
My own skin crawls under his fingers;
Shadowed secrets stab at me, his sour smell lingers.
I cannot stay; I cannot leave;
From the grip of her pain, I beg for reprieve.
Patty Prewitt
November 2, 2005
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