Sometimes I would watch the time, and jump each time the clock would chime.

Sometimes I would pace the floor, worrying when I’d hear him at the door.

Sometimes he’d come home late at night, and that would sometimes start a fight.

Sometimes I’d pour my whole heart out, and instead of care, all he did was shout.

Sometimes I’d ask him where he’d been, only answer I got was a fist to my chin.

Sometimes I tried to get away, I needed a break, too, but he’d make me stay.

Sometimes I’d ask him way too much, then he’d force me with an unwanted touch.

Sometimes he’d pin me on our bed, and grab and pry till my skin was red.

Sometimes he’d tie my hands so tight, it only hurt worse when I tried to fight.

Sometimes a pillow would cover my face, so no one could hear the screams from our place.

Sometimes I’d beg for him to change, but he’d just look at me so strange.

Sometimes I tried to win back his heart, but the words he spoke, struck me like a dart.

Sometimes he’d unbuckle, then snap his belt, and only the first twenty strikes could be felt.

Sometimes he’d slam me against the wall, then back up, and smile, and watch me fall.

Sometimes he’d pin me on the ground, and order me not to make a sound.

Sometimes he was totally overpowering, he could be so cruel, so uncaring, so mean.

Sometimes I sit here and think of my past, and how I’m enjoying some freedom at last.

Sometimes I wonder how things would be today, if I had never gotten away.