Typical Thursday In Verse | Teen Ink

Typical Thursday In Verse

August 28, 2015
By futurista12 ELITE, Far Rockaway, New York
futurista12 ELITE, Far Rockaway, New York
615 articles 1 photo 114 comments

Favorite Quote:
"And though she be but little, she is fierce."- Shakespeare


She awoke early this morning to the

booming, crashing sound of his

yelling.

She

tiptoed out of her bed and

listened at the door.

He grew louder and louder.

Her heart thumped,

she was scared.

 

As the yelling, screaming,

whatever you wanna call it,

ceased,

She ran down the stairs,

thoughts whirling.

In the kitchen, the silence was,

so freaking loud.

Her mother chopped the onions, crying noiselessly-

and not from the onions.

Her heart burned with hate.

 

Coming into the house,

he yelled.

Why was the cat's litter so smelly?

Why was there paint on the table?

Why wasn't his food ready?

"I"- she started only to receive a

gum-cracking-wrist-snapping slap

across her face.

Searing pain flashed through her,

piercing her heart.

 

11:00

Punching #12 volleyballs

surged anger,

broke fingernails,

poured sweat.

"Volley!" she says, "Volley!"

Harder, harder, over the net.

Losing pounds,

losing weight,

losing stamina,

losing heart.

She felt so tired.

 

Nancy held no

advice,

apprehension,

abstinence.

Just looked on, unreadable.

He looked deep with those

dark, scary eyes.

Touched her where some may call it

private.

She let him.

And when he walked away, satisfied,

Nancy stared appraisingly, and she,

was dirty.

 

At home the cat

clawed.

Hungrily, asking for attention.

She stroked his head.

She felt sad,

 

Later, the sisters talked,

chattered,

conversed.

Unaware, they tussled over clothes.

As if that was important.

She just rubbed her thighs,

remembering,

waiting,

wary.

She could explode.

 

Finally,

one by one,

they stomped out.

Angry at each other,

clothes all over her floor.

She closed the foor.

It felt good to be alone.

 

Thinking through the long, hard day,

she sighed

into her pillow.

She wished for Friday so she could tell her

'loved brudder'

all about it.

But the calendar read Thursday.

The yelling, touching, punching, ripping,

weighed her down.

She fought,

frenzied.

She was fearfully overpowered.

 

Blocking all memories,

ripping skin faster than ever before,

she bled.

Tears escaped her eyes, unnoticed.

Sobs escaped her throat, unheard.

She sank in blood, deeper and deeper.

Then, as if knowing I'm here, she looks up.

"Don't worry," she smiles at me,

eyes hollow and sunken, full of hurt,

"This isn't pain. This is relief."



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This article has 2 comments.


on Sep. 8 2015 at 1:03 pm
futurista12 ELITE, Far Rockaway, New York
615 articles 1 photo 114 comments

Favorite Quote:
"And though she be but little, she is fierce."- Shakespeare

Thank you. I will most definitely continue.

. said...
on Sep. 7 2015 at 7:42 pm
The way you put words together is beautiful. This poem is loaded with emotion, and describes a voice rarely heard. As a reader, you can feel it... there aren't really words to describe your words. I love all your work. Please, continue...


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