How could a child lose their sense of wonder?
When did they lose that youthful dream?
What trauma ripped a young life asunder
To live life crying a silent scream?
...................................................................................................................
All the jagged sharp stones that ever were thrown
build the walls of my prison I have now grown.
All the tears and my fears, I mortar them there
within bars smelted from all the hurts I have known.
The doors close with a crash, the keys I have smashed
no one can enter-
I'm my own person in here
where I'm alone with my cutting friends....
This skeleton I create, you can debate
but these bare bones are the bars of my cell.
My stretched taut skin, so transparently thin
papers the walls of my living hell!
No one can hear, 'cause I'm deep inside where
any sounds these thick walls will quell.
My loved ones I know, will sit through the show
hoping I'm going to mend,
but I've lost control, now stuck in this hellhole...
this plot was written with no end.
I hate your attempts to make me eat
watching me take each mouthful.
Where was your concern when I needed to learn
about giving love and personal respect?
You showed me the way to live in those days
is through pain, sexual abuse and neglect!
I plan your defeat no matter the entreat
you're just pushing against the stream.
If I survive it's because we'll devise
a way to live within this silent scream.
This crisis I create is how I relate
and in my life I know rocks matter.
They can build foundations...
or walls...
I like the sharpest of all....
Maybe you'll know what this is about. Written while in discussion with some women who are survivors.
I admire them.
I admire them.
2 comments:
Great thoughts! I had never heard about these things even did not think on it. Thanks for sharing such a beautiful thoughts with us.
Top of the range, very interesting and lovely information.
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