Violent Life

Her hands showed a life of work
Her face reflected the bitter life She's in.
The bruises, still black from the Previous week's violent, drunken Rampages.
His face, bitter and angry riddled With wrinkles.
His hands, bruised knuckles from Last weeks usual workout.
She sits in the corner of her room,
To afraid to go out, to confident to Stay in.
She emerges only to receive on Final blast
To surely blow her confidence well Out of the water.
Her hands, frozen stiff beside her Solid shape.
Her face, barely recognizable, Reflecting the life she's in.
His face, shocked and twisted.
His hands covered in the final Spouts of his wives blood
Retreating from her mangled body On the kitchen floor.
Her face…Her…Gone.