Sunday Best.

Shades of blue cover her face,

shades of black cover her eyes,

shades of red cover her head as she attempts to survive.

"You'd be prettier, without all that hair in your face."

Its just her way of trying to hide her disgrace,

trying to cover her scars.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are"

he says with stained breath coming from every bar.

His words were spun by whiskey

 as his fingers wrapped around her neck.

"Under my roof, you will respect me"

and she thinks
"You touched my body to infect me
and tore me apart to try to dissect me"
but she never speaks.

She frowns and just turns her head,

and he grits his teeth, realizing she's almost dead.

"Here's what you've become,

Youve grown from the wound from which you were bled"

 And she pushes him away and he says

"No, dont be that way. This is all YOUR fault you know."

 And she screams,

 " You now not from where I was inspired.

And now you're a fuck up and a fucking liar.

 Yo utake everything just because you desire,

you fuck up everything cos you think youre on fire,

but youre not.

My mom may sit back and laugh but I will not,

step to me, you got one shot.

I'm done dealing with you stealing the one life I've got

and I'm not done living so I wont fucking stop.

Respect you?

You touched me to infect me

and broke me down to dissect me.

You're not my dad,

so suck my nads,

 fuck off, respectfully." 

 She runs to her room
and hides behind the door
locks it tight
"you fucking bitch. You whore."
and the splitting of wood cracks against her skull
as he pushes his body against the barrier
again.

Crack.

"you don't know what I've been through."

Crack

And he says
You don't know what I've done for you"

Crack

and tears attack her face, Broken.
And hits her again.

 She's cracked.

Those shades of blue across her face

that shade of black that blinds her eyes

those dark reds covering her head as she tries to survive.

They hide the beauty her heart can't show.

So she hides it, so no one will know.

She doesnt want anyone to see the pain she grows.

They think it'll all just blow over

thats what they say when they think she's not sober.

And so those scars and bruises grow closer

She's got five pretty stains all over her

Two on her neck.

And no one asks.

But she's cracking.

Her lips break from holding them together too long.

and bleed from biting too hard.

She doesnt wanna speak

but she wants to scream.



She wants to yell all those words that rot away

"The lips you taste are never awake when you try to wake them.
They breathe slowly, and play dead as you pet them softly.
But you wouldnt understand the pain that stains them."

Broken glass and a pretty face.
"You have no idea how beautiful you are"
those words ring in her skull, but she'll never believe.

So, she stands against the tide as it crashes against her
She thinks of how to stop the world from crashing down.

"He likes pain to pretty
and death to daughter.
But hates the words of reason
when it comes to slaughter.
'Two more hits, maybe I'll stop hitting it.
Be social, maybe I'll stop shittin it.'

He doesnt makes sense, but he's always spittin it.
And pushes me away, and not just physically.
He portrays resistance, but doesnt resist hitting me.
I always wonder how they next time turns.
Will he hit me? Holler?
Will he burn my coller?
Will he drown my head in my sunday best?
The high socks and long sleeves hiding my bruises.

Guess we'll see."