"I've got a good man"

"I've got a good man who would never do me wrong"
Fran used to say
But the make up she used
To conceal the bruises
On her neck
On her arms
And on her legs
Those deep bruises told another story
At work Fran sang songs
About how God had given her hope in this troubled life
And when I struggled with my duties
Fran was always there to help me finish
And give me advice
But as time went on
The bruises became deeper
And her optimism dimmed
Her smiles became increasingly forced
But she never missed work
Until the day Miss Carey pulled me aside at the start of my shift
"I don't know if you heard on the news or read about it in the paper,
But Fran was murdered at her home last night."
I'd miss her dearly
But I didn't have to ask what happened
I already knew