Maybe He Doesn’t Hit Me

Maybe he doesn’t hit me
But he calls me names when things don’t go his way
Like a human Thesaurus in creative display
Belittles and compares me to his dear ex
Pulls me to the bed and pressures me for sex

Maybe he doesn’t hit me
But he tells me how I should talk, walk, drop, and roll
I’m his walking trophy, I’m his Barbie Doll
He throws a fit when he sees my head
‘Cause my hair colour isn’t the right shade of red

Maybe he doesn’t hit me
But he constantly checks where I am all the time
Explodes if I don’t text him back on time
Wants my movements under his control
I’m a car on the road, he’s the highway toll

Maybe he doesn’t hit me
But I can’t hang out too long with my mate
‘Cause someone starts screamin’ when I’m out too late
He threatens to leave with a breakup and suicide
Anything to force me to stay by his side

Maybe he doesn’t hit me
But eggshells are the floor I constantly walk on
My head is the stool where he puts his feet on
He gaslights and says I exaggerated
So I see the world through windows distorted

He traps me in with no sign of distress
This relationship has no exit, he says

Maybe he doesn’t hit me
But sometimes I wish he did so I could leave and be free

There must be a Pulitzer material in my drafts here somewhere...
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