Why I Outdoors

I am eighteen, not a child,

My painful story all is piled.

It's my husband, who beat me and also hit me,

All are being observed, but society can't see.

Am I lucky, am I an evil woman,

I stay with family, although I live in a cage.

Every day I cry, and tears fall down like rain,

doing such heinous work, what will you gain?

Oh! God lift me up from here,

May I get a happy life after going there?