Fun Was it fun to degrade me, Accusing me of activities That I never did? Was it fun to threaten me, To have me live in fear Of what you’d do next? Was it fun to isolate me, To cut my contact with family or friends And lie to them about the situation? Was it fun to rape, To coerce me into submission And take advantage? Was it fun to call me names, The never-ending list of ugly Expletives and obscenities? Was it fun to watch me jump, Each time you threw a chair Or banged a wall? Was it fun to damage this spirit, That still reverberates with The consequences of your cruelty?