The Help Will Never Come

Every time he comes

He shuts my mouth

Hands made of iron, he has.

Every time he comes

He tears my flesh

Nails made of iron, he has.

But there are no scars on my body .

There are no scars on my body

I've myself surrendered to him.

Today again,  

I've uncovered my bosom, 

I've undressed myself,

Opened my thighs and felt the pain.

What kind of control he has?

I never scream

My tears dry inside my eye

I don't make a movement against him.

My arms don't work

My nail lose its sharpness 

My teeth is numb

My legs don't kick him out 

Time stops .

My soul is stuck in between... .

And every time when it is over

I ask God "please help me get rid of him"

But how? He's my Husband. 

My husband!