UNCAGED RAGE

She kneels down, rag and bucket in hand.

She still feels his kick in the gut,

and wears another black eye.

Her lips are swollen, split open wide.


She keeps washing away

at the stains of her rage.


Battered and bruised, tears fallin' down,

she listens to one of their favorite songs.

In the corner he sits,

his eyes dull, they should be closed.



He will not beat her again.

She stepped up to the plate.

With bat in hand,

she did not strike out.



Each break of the wrist

she followed through.

Now it's over, damage is done.

This time, she hit a home run.




Wringing out the red,

in a bucket full of pain.

Oh damn!

It's going to stain.




Copyrite 2007

By:MJones