Why do you do this to me?

I showed you the bruise you gave me from the day before.
You made an excuse and put the blame on me.
My body is sore and I’m all wore out from fighting with you.
Yet, you want to be intimate like nothing happened.
I’ve been there before; if I say no, you’ll be mean to me till I give in.
But if I say yes, I know it’s not because I want to!
The fact that we’re expecting our first child doesn’t seem to cross your mind.
You tell me how you watched your Dad hit your Mom, and how much you hate him!
Why do you do this to me?
We make up, get along, fight; it’s a never ending cycle!
You make me feel like I don’t matter.
It all seems so hopeless.
I put on a brave face for all to see, when really I’m screaming for help inside!
You have control, you own me, what you say is how it is.
Why do you do this to me?
I fear for our unborn baby, I cradle my overgrown belly to protect it as best I can.
Sometimes I try to fight back, but it’s no use, you’re stronger than I am!
Little things throw you into a rage and now I dodge an instinct, trying to avoid a blow.
I dare not tell anyone what you do, I’m afraid of you.
Why do you do this to me?
Or better yet, why do I let you do this to me?

by September Dawn McElroy
Copyright © February 26, 2003
Posted with permission