This is a poem which is on the same theme as the novel I'm writing.  The theme is domestic violence.

He was always plastered.
The bastard!
Staggering around drunk and uncouth,
Shouting and swearing and raising the roof.

And her; quiet as a mouse,
Locked in the house.
The neighbours stand around and chat,
Chinese whispers on the doormat.

Somebody should have stopped him.
Called the bloody cops in!
They say he strangled her in bed.
Pity she's dead!