They Don’t Know
They don’t know, about struggling through the sleepless nights, anticipating that next big fight.
About envisioning that same depressing sight, then staring at it until daylight.
They don’t know , about him leaving with her jewelry, her food, her savings, her every possession.
About him leaving with her peace, her trust, her perception of her own reflection.
They don’t know, about the way he degraded her, the beatings he gave her.
About the way he enslaved her, how afraid he had made her.
They don’t know, about the narcissistic mind games, how he purposely planned her misery.
About the dehumanizing names, how he stripped her of every liberty.
They don’t know, about the evil she had absorbed for so many years.
About those desperate screams that preceded the tears.
They don’t know, about the pain and the sorrow, when a heavy heart can feel hollow.
About the confusion that will follow just trying to make it til tomorrow.
They don’t know, about the beautiful person trapped inside this petrified shell.
About the brave warrior inside that helped her survive this hell.
They don’t know, about being manipulated in your own home with constant lies and trickery.
About the overwhelming possibility they’d treat her much differently if they knew her history.
They don’t know, about treating this like it’s your last chance to help, because it might be.
About treating this like it’s your chance to reverse all the pain this girl had to see.
They don’t know, about the smiles she forces daily so the pain won’t show.
About the fact no one can ever help if they don’t know.