The Face of Abuse

You cannot tell by looking at me.

That I once was abused.

That I once endured four years of domestic violence.

You could not tell by looking at me back then.

That I wore The Face of Abuse.

That the bruises were hidden beneath my hair.

You could not tell that I put make-up on my neck to cover up the first incident when pressed his knuckles so viciously into my neck and rib cage just hours before I had to leave for my niece's 1st birthday party.

You could not tell by looking at me that I listened to vulgar words being shouted at me daily.

That I feared for my life.

That I did not know if I could make it through another day.

Perhaps my eyes revealed some truth.

Weary ~

Worried ~

Distracted ~ 

Hopeless ~

Full of fear ~

I looked at my driver's license yesterday and saw The Face of Abuse.

A look only I could see.

A picture taken mere months before we broke up.

Then reposted five years later on my new driver's license.  Expiring in three more years.

Maybe I will take a new picture then.

In 2015.

To showcase my 10 years of freedom.

A New Picture of The Face of Freedom.

For all to see ~

Uncensored