Your Pathetic Existence

You wake up at the time

While stars are still singing to the moon

So that you can complete your chores with your tools

And avoid the stinging of the devil in your home.

For that’s the urgency

For that’s the agenda

Incase it’s not fulfilled then you must hear the trumpet

The trumpet so loud and obnoxious playing in your ears

That it would slaughter your spirit deep within

Leaving you with an eccentric hole.

The hole that has been dug

By extracting the essence of your existence

And it now speaks of your pathetic existence

The visitor reminds you of your pathetic endurance.

He visits your bedroom

And more often visits your body for pleasure

Seeking solace after the day’s pressure

When you look at him, the cheap glint in those eyes

Rather than reminding you of your safety and love

It reminds you your pathetic existence

You are reminded of your pathetic endurance

You are reminded of the vows that you took together

Of collective and happy subsistence

For when you thought you were his muse

Instead you were his object to use, for his pleasure

A punching bag for his vent out

When you thought he’d whisper you love notes

To your surprise those were pungent words

When you thought he’d caress you for nothing

It was his anger and beating displacing the nothing

Which left you bleeding, which left you sore

To the core, which pores out every hope.

Each time when you were bathing in his wrath

And giving your best to be his punching bag

Each and every second of these moments

He reminded you of your pathetic existence.

 ( the cases of domestic violence)