My chest hurts so much, my breath comes out fast.
My jaw is clenched tight, my eyes might seem glassed.
My stomach hurts deeply, it is filled with dread.
My ears are still listening, to the evil things said.
On eggshells I walk, I work hard toward my best.
Why does it all seem for naught, because I fail the tests?
He hid his true self, he’s not at all who he said.
So why am I forced by my church, with him to stay wed?
He breaks my best dishes, he throws food on the floor.
I’m on my hands and knees cleaning, while he walks through the door.
He holds me down harshly, so I can’t move or leave.
He drives so fast in the car, I’m so scared I can’t breathe.
Remote controls are thrown at me, they shatter on the wall.
He screams at the kids for nothing, not caring they’re small.
No one cares that I’m scared, since he doesn’t punch my face.
I fear death at night, that he will kill me before I wake.
He stabs his knife in the table, a wordless threat in the night.
I didn’t know what to do, how to go without a fight.
Protecting my children, I had to take them and go.
I tried to minimize accusations, so things could lay low.
People used that against me, and some called me a whore.
But if I had told all that happened, there’d be no safety anymore.
Friends all abandoned me, I was outcast by them.
My church left me alone, no help did they send.
So much for the years, of friendship and work.
I was cast aside like nothing, so badly that did hurt.
I made it without them, I figured it out pretty fast.
That I could depend on myself and new friends, and not those in my past.
In my heart I knew, God was on my side.
God wants more love, not for me and my children to die.
A cop helped me flee, he had seen this before.
He said it wouldn’t get better, he said I deserved more.
He helped me get out, was the only friend that I had.
The only voice of reason, who didn’t pressure me to go back.
I built a brand new life, one I’ll fight to preserve.
I’ll continue to thrive, and reach for what I deserve.
~Lella M Fulton
©2024 Copyright
I wrote this poem based on a domestic violence story that I know. The poem captures the fear that can control a person and their life and choices, even when they aren’t beaten with a closed fist.
My young sister, aged 29, was murdered on October 7th, 2025. She was shot in the chest by her partner in a domestic violence confrontation. She was pregnant with his child.
My sister will never see her children graduate high school or college. She will never hold her grandbabies.
At some point, I want to try to write some poetry about her. Right now, I cannot. Someday, I will.
