one blow
two blows,
a swollen eye,
a broken nose,
it's nothing though,
for my mother don't care,
my father society fears,
am his property now,
his punching bag,
who else can i turn to,
but ice packs and wet towels,
for I've made the vows,
for better or for worst,
till death to be with him,
maybe then if i die,
I'll be free,
from his raging fist,
from this raging beast,
but till then,
the sunglasses shall be my friend,
the plasters shall mend my face,
for who else can i turn to,
but no one else.