Array ( [sid] => 135654 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Generation of women lost [time] => 2007-07-01 01:48:05 [hometext] => I wrote this for all the women being abused by their so called [bodytext] => She couldn't have known that day she'd die,
by the abusive hand of a wondering eye,
She fell down the stairs, ran into the door,
All lies, we all know he strikes her and calls her whore,
Why she covered for him I'll never understand,
And stayed while he cheated and let him ruin her plan,
She wanted to be famous, a legend in her own time,
But he wanted a slave, a servant in her prime,
Girl what were you thinking? Not running like hell?
Forgetting about him, he's only a memory and a story to tell,
A story of strength and the power to leave,
And not to accept a man who beats and deceives,
But that's not what went down that fateful night,
When the crowbar went beyond the usual fight,
And now she's not famous, not a legend, not breathing,
not a mother, just broken all over and bleeding,
If she would've only listened to advice it wouldn't have been this way,
If she would've ran the first time he hit her, that very day,
Her grieving spirit would not sit, weeping at her grave,
Dwelling on how easily her innocent life could have been saved [comments] => 1 [counter] => 149 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Poess [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Generation of women lost


Generation of women lost
Date: Sunday, 1st July 2007 @ 01:48:05 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Poess
She couldn't have known that day she'd die,
by the abusive hand of a wondering eye,
She fell down the stairs, ran into the door,
All lies, we all know he strikes her and calls her whore,
Why she covered for him I'll never understand,
And stayed while he cheated and let him ruin her plan,
She wanted to be famous, a legend in her own time,
But he wanted a slave, a servant in her prime,
Girl what were you thinking? Not running like hell?
Forgetting about him, he's only a memory and a story to tell,
A story of strength and the power to leave,
And not to accept a man who beats and deceives,
But that's not what went down that fateful night,
When the crowbar went beyond the usual fight,
And now she's not famous, not a legend, not breathing,
not a mother, just broken all over and bleeding,
If she would've only listened to advice it wouldn't have been this way,
If she would've ran the first time he hit her, that very day,
Her grieving spirit would not sit, weeping at her grave,
Dwelling on how easily her innocent life could have been saved

This poem is Copyright © Poess


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