She had learned to loathe-
to despise and rebuild herself until she was filled with revenge.

Monster.

The bruises spread like ivy on her body.
The pain you caused swamped her.
You forced her; she was petrified. She shook
and shook in fear, for all those years she didn't understand what she did to deserve this.

Then you were caught.
She was tormented
by the thought of your chance at release:
your freedom from that cell.

Your mouth reeking of alcohol,
Your muttered words, your harsh hands.
Your power, your sickly look,
Your delusion.

Would jail stop you?
From approaching another, and forcing them to your will?
They aren’t yours to abuse.

Now death waits for you in that cell:
the orange suits shaming you, the stains of blood and dirt, the weight of your delusion.
Your regrets.
As you shake and shake
in the silence until you take deaths bait and he unlatches his arms and
welcomes you into his breathless tomb.

She finally breathed.
The swamp retracting, the ivy falling.
No longer tormented by her monster.