Violence Poem

Violence is who she is

She speaks it,

Hears it,

Lives it,

Feels it.

Her words speak death.

Speeches of negative comments,

Comments of her born blood.

Or, from outsiders, judgemental people.

She hears violence:

The low wispers of students,

the screams in her mind.

She lives it.

Living in a prison_

But, to us, it's a home.

Living in fear and hoplessness,

living to the sounds of strikes, the poundings of her master.

But, to us, that's our mother.

Living is not what she wants.

She feels violence:

The cuts and brusies,

The blood that stains her clothes.

She feels her heart losing its beat.

The throbbing pains,

The tears she wipes,

The friend she wishes she had.

She Speaks It,

Hears It,

Lives It,

Feels It.

Violence is who she is

But, not who she wants to be.