The Children Sat Quietly at the Kitchen Table   Leave a comment

The Children Sat Quietly at the Kitchen Table

Another clear blue sky morning
Another, fucking, clear, blue sky morning
Only those on the streets understood
A clear blue sky had meant a cold fucking night

The bruises had come out quickly this time
But it was different, the pain was more
Her eye socket tender to the touch
Her vision blurred like never before

She was fed up, just a slave to him
and his mates as they watched the footy
“Get another six pack out of the fridge bitch”
She hesitated too long, and then he went off

He grabbed her long, once beautiful hair
and dragged her into the kitchen – she screamed
The first punch hurt the most, the ice breaker
Two children sat quietly at the kitchen table

The more she cried the more he hit, the more he hit
the more she cried, it’s own never ending story
Egged on by his gutless mates he gave her
one more punch and then finished her off with a kick

“Now just fuck off, you’re way too old and ugly for me
You can forget the kids, they’re mine” he screamed
as he pushed her out the door, “you can go and live on
the fucking streets for all I fucking care”

She didn’t even last a week before her bruised and
battered body was found, fresh bruises on top of old
She was not dead but this was not going to be a fairy tale
At home the children sat real quiet at the kitchen table

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