Struggle comes in all forms and has masks,

It is like a woman that’s been beaten but

Hides her trauma and pain so no one asks.

Every blow to her face is a punch to the gut,

Swollen eyes and closed fists are a match;

They do not open, tears in her eyes, she was

So upset, knowing that she’s attached.

He knows he’s wrong but she’s saying it’s “me,”

Yet he blames her for his mistakes and drinks

his thoughts away, blood on his hands, he knows,

That he caused a mess taking so many risks;

The bottle danced making his hands mix slow.

Two intruded minds cause harmful intentions,

That leads to chronic and awful tensions.