The Web Poetry Corner
The Web Poetry Corner
Browns Mills, NJ, US
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His hands on her body, so harsh, so rough
The tears she cried were not enough
He made her hurt, and made her scream
He completely shattered her self-esteem
He would not let her hide her face
He made her bear the deep disgrace
He abused her body, he abused her mind
He was a man of the cruelest kind
Her mother knew but did not care
She seemed to delight in her daughter's despair
She could not bear her mother's hatred, so she kept their secret sacred
The tell-tale signs were always there
But if anyone noticed, they didn't care
She was suicidal at eight years old
Her once warm heart, now hard and cold
He beat her badly, he threatened her life
He dashed her hopes, he caused her strife
She blocked it out, she ceased to feel
The horrible dreams, seemed so real
He made her feel worthless, he made her feel dumb
The pain was so intense, her body went numb
Trapped by his lust, a victim of his rage
Forced to feel adult feelings, despite her young age
Forced to give her mother pleasure, forced to endure all the pain
Forced to leave her own body, so she would not go insane
Her mother did not protect her, like she once thought she might
Instead she stayed withing the room, taking in the sight
She was sickened and ashamed of the things she would feel
When between his legs he would make her kneel
With him in her mouth she would gag and choke
She grew sicker and sicker with every stroke
He would fill her mouth and not allow her to spit
He nearly killed her on the night that she bit
The memories still haunt her, the nightmares live on
Filling each and every hour from dusk until dawn
Her childhood innocence shattered
Betrayed by her mother's trust
Left alone with a grown man
The object of his lust
He stripped off her clothes
And made her suck his d*ck
He took advantage of a child
His mind was twisted and sick
Merely a child
Too young to understand
All the adult actions
Of her, he did demand
He loved to make her cry
He relished in her tears
He threatened her life
And preyed upon her fears
He whipped her and he beat her
He stripped away her pride
The suicidal thoughts began
Already feeling dead inside
The pain that he instilled
With nothing could compare
The dirty, shameful secret
With no one could she share
She shut off all her feelings
Became quiet and withdrawn
She cried herself to sleep each night
Praying never to see dawn
Despite all of her pleas
Each new day did arrive
She was all alone and lost
With the struggle to survive
Grown up and older now
No longer a little girl
She fights to live and feel again
In a harsh, cold world
The abuse is over, but the memories live on,
Filling thoughts and dreams from dusk till dawn.
He is dead, and no longer a threat,
But still she wakes in a cold sweat.
Lost and confused she can't help but wonder why,
Her mother won't talk about it, her mother won't cry.
She can hear his voice from time to time,
And wonders if she isn't losing her mind.
She knows he is dead and can't hurt her anymore,
But still she can feel all the pain that she bore.
She remembers the bruises and burns in vivid detail,
And all the cuts and welts, left by the singletail.
She is now in therapy and on medication,
She is seeking help, and at times a vacation.
She has been hospitalized and has had fainting spells,
It seems to get a little bit easier with each time that she tells.
The truth is no longer bottle up inside,
She has been held, and allowed to cry.
She does not yet know the strength she does wield,
But she does know that in time, all things are healed.
The abuse is over, though the memories stay,
But she lives to see each new day.
There is so much I keep bottled up inside.
There is nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide.
But who can I talk to? who can I trust?
If I keep it inside, I'm going to bust.
They do not understand, they will never see.
That cutting helps me deal with reality.
There are so many pressures pulling at me.
I feel some release when I make myself bleed.
I need to see the blood, and feel the pain.
It helps me to cope, and helps me stay sane.
Long, short, and jagged cuts, some are shallow, some are deep.
Some think that I am crazy, some think that I'm a creep.
How can I explain the if's, where's, how's, why's, and when's?
When I don't know myself, it just kind of happens.
If I make enough cuts, someone will notice and see.
Then they will pay attention, and get some help for me.
They don't know the stress of being in school.
Or trying to fit in, and being cool.
Of making your parents happy, earning respect from peers.
All of the trials to overcome during teenage years.
I may not speak out through writing, or through word.
But by cutting myself, I beg to be heard.
The pain from the cuts, I don't feel at first.
Of all of my pain, it is not the worst.
The emotional pain is much more intense.
Of life and my actions, I can not make sense.
I don't want to hurt my mom or my dad.
I don't want to make anybody sad.
I want to make my parents proud of me.
I don't want to cause them any misery.
I want to be good, and do what is right.
I don't want trouble, I don't want to fight.
I don't like being on restriction, or not allowed on the phone.
Not being able to see my friends, or be left home alone.
She lay in her bed, trying to sleep,
When into her room, he would creep.
The strong scent of mint, on his breath she could smell,
He threatened her life so she would not tell.
His hands would slip beneath her nightgown,
And then roughly pull her panties down.
He would sit beside her on her bed,
And make her wish that she was dead.
He would touch her outside and in,
She knew it was a shameful sin.
He was like a monster of the worst kind,
Molesting her body, and poisoning her mind.
He made her feel horrible, and made her feel sick,
He forced her to kiss him, and suck on his d*ck.
Then came the worst part to overcome,
The bastard raped her and made her c*m.
She was just a young girl, she did not know,
How much worse the secret would grow.
She did not know it would be like acid inside,
Tearing her up and making her think of suicide.
She hated him for being such a creep,
And molesting her each night before she could sleep.
In the closet, scared and alone,
She layed on the floor where she was thrown.
Both her wrists and ankles bound,
Her cries for help, made little sound.
Her body ached from being beaten,
It had been days since she had eaten.
It was nothing short of torture,
All the things they did to her.
She hated the darkness, and the small space,
She hated the tears that stained her face.
She wanted out, and nothing more,
But she could not open up the door.
They ignored her please and cries,
They had bruised her body and blackened her eyes.
She had done little to warrant punishment such as this,
All she did was refuse to accept a kiss.
She had been passed from person to person all day long,
She had grown weak, and was no longer strong.
She cried and begged with tearful pleas to be let out,
Her cries heard, but ignored, without a doubt.
So in the closet she would stay,
And live to be abused another day.