Her Fight

September 25, 2007
By Megan Crawley, Charlotte, NC

With her I feel comfortable,
I am no longer afraid.
The fears I had about her,
they crumble and fade away.

When our eyes lock togehter at once,
I see her truth within.
Her eyes tell a deeper story,
than the scars upon her skin.

Everyday she wakes up,
she hustles to get money.
This is not a joke,
nowhere near funny.

Her cuts and bruises,yeah,
sure they have a past.
When I brush my hand across them,
she tells me the pain doesn't last.

In the dark streets,
she walks all alone.
With nothing for her protection,
not even a simple phone.

The stitches on her fingers,
she tells me are from a fight.
Described in more detail,
those cuts nearly saved her life.

With a blade to her throat,
she stood strong and tall.
She grabbed the blade in hand,
she wasn't ready to take a fall.

When she whisperedin my ear,
to tell me her story.
Thoughts ran through my head,
all I could do was worry.

When we're not together,
I hold my phone tight.
I constantly have the fear,
that it may be "the night".

Everynight I leave her,
I look back until she's out of sight.
I will never know if that night,
will be the end of her fight.

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