[T]'s Demon World
Providing developers and businesses with a reliable, easy-to-use cloud computing platform of virtual servers (Droplets), object storage ( Spaces), and more.
Shackles and nooses hang in the yard,
blood spattered bedsheets letting down their guard.
The rain that falls down drips this away,
but the rain don't erase the scars made that day.
The woman runs barefoot drenched in the rain,
something screaming inside she just couldn't sustain.
Her cries for help are muffled once more,
as her red rimmed husband slams open the door.
Her child inside she just couldn't protect,
from the beast she had married, through now a regret.
Dead now inside, a mental erase,
she forgets the life she made with each pace.
Drugs she had turned to, a fantasty dream,
nothing would take her back to the person she'd been.
Her child lay upstairs battered and bruised,
attacked without thought and angrily abused.
As she runs from the heartache, she runs from the fear,
running in that rain had made it so clear.
Her hair a mess, and her clothes soaking wet,
she runs from the pain she tried to forget.
She wake up in bed, and focuses her sight,
Her abusive husband Stan, sleeps to her right.
I wrote this one last night as I was thinking maybe my
mother turned to drugs and starting getting hits on me too
because he was scared of him. I dunno.