Survival

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    Survival

    You started to hurt me in the smallest of ways
    But the infliction of pain increased with the days.
    I kept thinking you'd change, or so I prayed
    I wanted to make it work so I choose to stay.
    I stayed until that terrible last night
    when the bruises and blood resulted from your trying to take my life.
    I had to make that night the last while I was still alive
    Because I knew there would be a next time and I wouldn't survive.
    Now, years later, the bruises on my body have healed
    But the scars on my heart and in my mind will forever be real.

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    SClark20xx commented on Survival

    04-11-2009

    Sad

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    Christina’s Poems (4)

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    Walking My Path Alone 0
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    Survival 1

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