Count Me Out

January 10, 2013
By , Nowhere, KY
I stand on the outside of the crowd; trying my best to stay out.
Push comes to shove and talk comes to shout.
All individuals, but all sharing one common thought; Fight, Fight.
Unable to get away; I hold my books tight.
You’ve broken free and I catch a glimpse of your face.
Broken and bleeding, you’ve completely lost the race.
I watch you walk away sullenly and I shake my head.
Thanking the good Lord that you’re not dead.

I’ve had enough and he can tell.
Still he continues putting me through my hell.
Blood runs from my lip.
Yet he begs me for another slip.
I shake the dirt off and walk away.
Reminding myself that he’ll get what he pays for one day.

I am swimming in tears and the world is tainted in blue.

I’m praying to God that he never does this to you.

I find myself jumping at the shrill ring of the phone.

I hear my own voice afraid to tell him I’m alone.

The memory of your broken face is still vivid in my mind.

I wonder how I could’ve been so blind.

He hangs up the phone and leaves me in silence.

Awaiting his arrival; I fear the oncoming violence.

I turned to the phone to make one last call.

So someone will know if he decides to end it all.

The phone rings and I am afraid to answer it.

I pick it up; ready to receive whatever crap I’ll get.

I say a hello and jump up in surprise.

It’s your sweet voice who so kindly replies.

I notice your words are laced with fright.

And ask what’s up with you tonight.

Suddenly, you break down and spill.

I say I’m coming and ask you to wait until.

The door is opened without much warning.

I pray to God that I’ll see another morning.

He’s not that kind of person who will ever wait.

He reaches my bedroom and I know that it will be too late.

I try to talk and I try to reason.

Try to save him from his very own treason.

Before I know it; blood is drawn.

All sympathy from before is gone.

I walk in to see you on the floor.

Hope is gone; life no more.

Look again and you begin to stir.

Life is better; nearer to the cure.

You open your eyes and let out a small groan.

I turn around to face the thing I’ve dreaded since I picked up the phone.

I don’t raise a fist or raise a gun.

I won’t let him have that much fun.

I don’t try to talk and I don’t try to reason.

Now no one can save him from his treason.

All is still; all is silent.

It’s only a matter of time before he gets violent.

I won’t let this be another repeat.

I won’t hold back and fall at his feet.

I’ll let him throw the first punch, but I’ll give my all.

I’ve used up all my patience, waiting for this one call.

When it comes to crowds, you can count me out.

Until push comes to shove and talk comes to shout.

Quiet girl; I am no more.

When he tries to throw you to the floor.

The scene I’ve seen a million times.

Has woken me up to all his lies.

The familiar bruise upon my cheek.

You give me strength; no more am I weak.
As you continue on with your fun.

I run out and dial the number nine-one-one.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

I beg her now to hear my plea.

Every second is like an hour; every minute like a day.

I pray to God that you’ll be okay.

Not a moment too soon, I hear a glorious sound.

“Show your hands and get down on the ground.”

He’s broken free and I catch a glimpse of his face.
Broken and bleeding, he’s completely lost the race.
I stand there watching as they take him away.
Thankful that today’s the day he has to pay.
Watching you talk to the officers, I raise my head.
Thanking the good Lord that you’re not dead.

Join the Discussion

This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

sarahmcmurtry said...
Jan. 14, 2013 at 6:26 pm
i love it but i'm confused.  Who two points of view is it from and who is the abuser.  is it the friend of a parent?
Death_Writer97 replied...
Jan. 15, 2013 at 4:23 pm
It's from the point of view of two friends; one who is the girlfriend of the abuser and one who is the main victim of his bullying.
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