I've been reading the poems posted here (great ones, BTW) and dug out some of my old poems to read. This was written about my time before I met my husband. But I thought it might be a bit appropriate.
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Walking In My Dark Woods Had Brought About The Realization That My Existence Was In Peril. The Ashes Of My Pride Lay Scattered To The Winds.

The Men Who Had Used My Soul For A Punching Bag Stood Off Chuckling Together Under The Trees.

What Was Left Of The Respect I Had For Myself Was Put Into A Small Box, Neatly Tied With Ribbon, And Placed Onto The Ground.

That I Was Alive Could Be Told By The Beating Heart And Filling Lungs. No Other Register Of Being Was Found.

My Worth Lay Shattered In The Grass. Being Unable And Unwilling To Bend To Gather It Up, I Passed By.

Through The Murky Branches, I Saw That The Path Was Leaving The Timbered Darkness. There Were Two Questions.

Ought The Remains Of Myself Be Left Behind Or Does Necessity Dictate The Trek Back To Reclaim My Damaged Self

I Turned Back.