NB (12/25/1975 / Armenia)

He Beat Me

He beat me,
Every night he would beat me.
He beat me,
He would kick me,
He would come after me with a belt,
When that didn't work he would go in His kitchen and take out a sharp knife And chase me around the house,

Every night he would beat me.
I could feel the heel of his size 12 Shoe raked across my back.
I could feel the stench of his Alcoholic breath as he reeled back his Hand to hit me over and over again.
It didn't make a difference what I did,
I would not look forward to the night.

It was the night when he would attack,
I hated the time when the sun would set,
That is when he would hit my back.

He was a large man,
Over six foot tall,
Black hair,
And smelled of strong alcohol.

He drank beer,
And was all drunk,
He would hit me again and again,
He would do so,
Until I turned red,
I would be sore,
I couldn't move
And then he would go to bed.

What is wrong with this picture,
Shouldn't I have done better?
How are you supposed to treat the
Little people under your feet.

You always knew how much I bugged him,
He used his shoe,
His foot,
His belt,
and maybe even a beer bottle.

I didn''t mind the physical torture,
It was the chemical warfare
That really bugged me.
You see,
It is hard to play fair,
It is hard to hold a grudge,
I can''t really blame him,
I would do the same,
I would have beat me,
After all, its all in the game.

Oh by the way,
Next time you go over to his house,
Look down at your feet,
You see I am just a mouse!

by Nadalia Bagratuni

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