“Dead Trophy.”

I am without authority on the cycle of abuse
But today I watched as she chose her abuser over me
The one who tried so desperately to let her claim immunity from this pig
The door was wide open yet there was no escaping her cage.

Only hours ago, she looked in my eyes and agreed staying would cause her very soul to die yet she caved
She outright chose death for the rest of her days over walking in freedom
Willingly relinquishing pure joy for a life being subdued and tracked and trapped.

While I praised her apparent strength
She let the devil convince her to stay
While I offered all my assistance
She plotted to appease her tormentor
So suppressed by his temper tantrum quibbling
She will do his bidding at the cost of her own life.

It is sick as it is sad and so far removed from any semblance of sanity
She is your dead trophy
Without emotion and suspended in time
The maggots continue to feed
At your imaginary union.
Spoils to the victor.

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