As the fire licks at the tip of my heels
chills run up my spine.
Remembering what I had done an hour ago.
Feeling his blood running through my fingers.
The cold steel blade of the knife
never felt so good.

He had it coming
that last strike was his last.
I wasnt going to take it any longer.
To many bruises to try to cover.
So many lonely nights cursing myself.
He had it coming.

The anger in his eyes burnt through me.
The alcohol on his breath stung me.
Bruise after bruise never once halting,
my screams never being loud enough.

Now instead of washing my blood off my hands
Im washing his for once.
Never again will I have to feel his
fist hit my face..
Domestic violence dosent come close.
Attempted murder is more like it.
Murder is that what I did?
No self defense was what it was.
He would have killed me
Im not ready to die.
Not my turn to be layed in the ground.
Instead of visting my grave
you can visit his.
He had it coming.

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