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Cry Of A Woman

It’s said,” Love is the root of life”
But my relationship is full of strife.
Pain, grievance and tears are my company of this journey
A journey full of complications that rumbles each time they burn and collide within my lifetime.

I woke up early every morning to cleanup the dust,
Working on my routines like a slave of masters without guts
Working restlessly from dawn till dusk
And my unappreciative husband, after all I did, wore an animal’s face full of fierce, without mercy

All he wants is living like a king
He neither cares nor think
that to become who he is today, it’s because of me,
Who made sure he’s looking as sparkling as scrubbed floor,
And as clean as a gentlemen that every woman would ever wished for

When night comes , I know I’m in danger
As my fearless husband returns home drunk and charged with anger.
He doesn’t seem to have manners at all,
Since his mind if full of alcohol,
His reasoning capacity disturbed,
Leaving his intellectual ability draped,
Not even a little, but rather distorted

Yelling and hauling of property are his games,
Even neighbors knew of our quarrel timetables
As he doesn’t care either of our surroundings or our children
Noise of felling property wakes my kids from their peaceful sleep
as he throw all objects onto my body.

My kids would watch me tortured
They couldn’t say a thing to save me as they’re of a young age,
You could see them crying in desperation
As a mother, I try to hide my actual feeling promising that everything is okay
But from deep within, my soul is grieving as pain got worse
as if a hot-sharp-knife is cutting through my flesh

Day by day, fresh cuts of wounds emerge,
Only one fact kept me from quitting this marriage,
The fact of living for my children,
to at least grow up with their mommy aside
The fact of keeping their innocent souls, hoping that tomorrow, they’ll take care of me too.
But from the depth of my heart, I’m living in inferno
I’m regretting this marriage
Bittered and buttered as I try to manage,
As my husband always ill-treats me every now and then,
Now I look like of an old age,
Bitten day after day and now my body is full of bondages,
Bruises, scars and scrubs have become part of my complexion
That you can’t even look at me twice or thrice.

So according to me #StewieLeSavage today we celebrate the eighth day of the 16 days of activism against gender based violence with Ashleigh Kyle Manyame

Published by According to Stewie Le Savage

Tackling your day to day issues and introducing you to new people that might inspire you. Everything according to me #StewieLeSavage a self taught writer who believes that change is possible. Best Humanitarian Blog Award Winner for 2021 under the Zim Bloggers Awards.

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