The Controlling Man

Poem By Donna Nimmo

Your heart, your body can never heal
From back when you were given, a raw deal
He kept you in a cage with no bars
And even now you can feel the scars
Didn't let you have family or friends
Would buy jewelry to make amends
He kept you scared most of the time
Took years off your life, in your prime
He'd make promises he wouldn't keep
Couldn't get out, you were in too deep
He was so demanding, a controller of your life
He had it all planned when he made you his wife
These kind of men are weak and mean
They can't love normally, they make a scene
He can't go on without you, you've become his obsession
He doesn't really love you, only a possession
They are cunning and cruel in their game of love
Once they reel you in, they will begin to shove
You're better off to live your life alone
Than to reap what he has sewn
Fear and pain will keep you bound to him
Get out while you can, or your life will be grim!

Comments about The Controlling Man

Oh my dear, may I ask if you are stilll in this relationship? Your words are so reminding of mine because there is a connection. Your writing is so so so vivid and so true and so moving. Keeping writing about this because there are so many women who need to know as long as there is life there is hope.


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Other poems of NIMMO

Growing Up

I didn't know why I was really born
I had a sad childhood and was always torn
Didn't know my daddy, didn't really know my mother
It was just us three, with my sister and my brother

The Abused Wife

She drive's into her neighborhood
Her heart starts racing
She knows he's been pacing
She can't explain what took so long

Social Security Reform

They have found an answer for social security
Put them in a nursing home, no liability
Medicaid and medicare will probably have to pay
Then they'll only live a year or two and become their prey

Trying To Find A Job

Trying to find a job at fifty-three
Too old to work, too young for social security
They all want someone in their early twenties
That will go to work for mere pennies

Donna's Story

I spend alot of time writing poems, telling my story
Most are kind of sad, doesn't offer much glory
My best friend is my paper and my pen
It brings me back to places I have been