Suburbia

Home sweet home
Neat houses all in a row
Faux gaslights imparting
A soft, subtle glow

Her house looks no different
With its white shaded porch
Yet evil lies in wait
Behind the closed door

In the shadow of privilege
She cowers in fear
Her cries at odds
with the serene night air

The red peonies she planted
Are the color of her blood
The dead patch on the emerald lawn
Mirrors his “love”

If you look closely
You’ll see something askew
Maybe a jagged edge
Within the lines of smooth


©️ 2020 MW / DV survivor