The Happy Domestic Violence Poem by Vera Sidhwa

The Happy Domestic Violence

Rising out of the ashes,
Of a tumultuous ride,
Was the happiest moment in my,
Wasted life.

A moment here, a moment there,
But all moments ending in terror and despair,
In moral deprecation,
In the deepest desperation.

The ashes came from the fire,
Of the one who's desire,
Was to cause famine and grief,
To an innocent.

This innocence was the target,
He claimed he did forget,
All he had done,
So he at last won.

The painful moral of this story,
Lies in the evil glory,
Of a man with morals or goodness,
Who forgot his humanity and esteem.

These words bring out the pain,
I've withstood torrential rain,
Except the rain's color was red,
In my pain, his evil glory was spread.

I had to now dismantle,
His power over me.
Only I could straighten out,
And become the independent me.

I rose out of the ashes.
I was happy.


The above is based on what my friend went through.