Beaten

Beaten

She picks up the Box,
And slams it against my skin,
Over and over,
Until the veins swell,
And the blood is at the surface.
She leaves me with marks,
Marks of pain,
Mixed with sadness and hate.
She is not done until satisfied,
And not satisfied until,
She sees the tears streaming down my face.
My skin throbs where it’s been hit,
My body marked with purple and red patches.
My face is tear stained,
My eyes red and puffy,
Cheeks swollen,
Throat Strained From Screaming and crying,
My Shins are bruised,
And it’s hard to walk.
All this because?
I didn’t do something the right way.