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who will run
gauntlet fierce
scythe held high
through thicket thorns
emerge alive
      stay sane      

hours fuse to
decades spent
begging bird song
soothe dispel
savage sordid
scenes

crows confer
callous cold
steal each fractured day
as suffocation
stymies step
yet he walks free

not one escaped
each tender bud
torn in turns
as all around
walked on by
blind to ****

are all afraid
mesmerized
by podium power
pious privilege
feigned
masking sleight of hand

will someone stand
despite the odds
counter hallowed hall
covert thugs' threats
of slow death
if we tell

who can dare
scarred mirror asks
shatter code hushed
defy hypnotic trance
risk life and limb
to speak

or has their curse
rendered lame
those not killed
left to bleed
alone in shadows'
listless lanes

eyes stare
probe, confront
in mirror fogged
I wipe them dry
distraught no flame remains
I can sustain

to fuel the fight
and stagger on
through forest blaze
of justice failed
as cries of children
sear the night

while
he
still
breathes
I would appreciate frank feedback, please.  How do you feel when you read this - is the meaning clear? Thank you
She was a girl
full of dreams,
affectionate, adoring,
easy to please,
a full life ahead,
so it seems....

Living and laughing, dancing a dream,
loving life, to its means.
sixteen and beautiful
full of passion and grace,
she hungered for the day
she could take her place.

Hopes and dreams
of a full life ahead,
she saw it coming
she never had any dread.

Living and laughing, dancing a dream
loving life, to its means.
daytime turned to darkness
joy to grief,
laughter to tears
with no passion or grace.

Beaten and wounded
youth taken away,
she longed for the day
she could escape this place.

Protecting the ones she loved
from the outcome of her fate,
she pushed it deep down inside
and hide it at any rate.

Day’s turned to weeks
weeks turned to years,
she kept smiling and living
but joy was replaced with fear.

Longing for the one
who would hold her tight,
turning her darkness
back into light.

Living and laughing, dancing a dream
Loving life to its means…
~
Copyright © All Rights Reserved ~
Stormy Angel/DMA
Registered: 2015-04-20 07:08:23 UTC

April is ****** Assault Awareness Month along with National Child Abuse Prevention Month the two go hand in hand. Any form of Child Abuse happens from infant age to adult age and at times carry’s beyond. If you see or feel a child is being abused in any form of any way call this National Number To Report It…
1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453) or visit the web site at, Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline… http://www.childhelp.org/pages/hotline-home   Crisis Counselors Available 24/7.
This poem is a true story about a girl who was ****** Assaulted by a family member, who after years has come out of her hiding place, has found her true love and is living her dreams.

All abuse damages the heart and soul, it puts out a light and the scars you forever hold.

Make a stand, report if you see or think a child is being abused, you could save a life!
you plan to trap
to take a cut-
a ripening peach
with sugar bait?

you soil yourself
remove all sense
when all you have
you desecrate

her body sees, her body sees

'I'll take it now
she's just the size
to make me big
bend over chick

for she won't see
to mists she'll flee
I'll do a trick
with my joystick'

her inside sees, her inside sees

it's not all past
in spurting spray
a laughing squirt
bull at a gate

to steal a bud
the harshest crime
to rob a child
her life dictate

her body tells, her body tells

for it is seen
and registered
it's catalogued
in Judge's file

the breakage raw
her broken selves
you callous brute
are facing trial

and all can see
as you do now
the lies you told
you *******
Abusers tell one another:
''It's such good luck
she's only 6
for after 8
it's much too late?!"

Of course, it may be a boy, and the abuser may be female. 

Whatever the case, it helps to know their thinking so
we can better protect our kids

©https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/848436017300514805/
Quite where
the argument was going
she didn't know
but it usually ended
with him storming
from the room
having lost the argument
and she left
with a black eye
or split lip.

But sometimes
she lost the argument
and backing down
returned to silence
as he sat there
making smoke rings
with his cigarette.

Sometimes they didn't row
either because they agreed
or she was too tired to row
and let it slide
and let it fester inside.

Quite where the argument
would end up
she didn't know
what set it off
was often mundane
or something that led
to an argument
that seemed out of sight.

And of course
in an argument
not both can be right
sometimes it boils down
to who has
the power and the might.

They argue now
going at it
like hammer and tongs
as her mother used to say
exchanging words
and sentences
in the market place
of an unequal marriage
face to ****** face.
Sometimes I still hear the snap of the belt against my skin.
It's why I still flinch when a stranger steps to close in proximity.
My heart often rises in a flight of birds.
Just trying to escape the cold rush of December.
It flutters trying to keep up with registering between fight or flight.
My feet often start running before I.
Often mistaking a pen dropping for a bomb.
Regardless I am gone before I ever arrive anywhere.
Half checked into a place I can never just leave.
My milestones are the intermittent fasting between therapy sessions.
We often talk of the stuff we carry;
but leave the pages blank on the things we must live with.
I haven't wrote in 2 years other than the other day, it felt good to write something again. April is National Child Abuse Awareness Month. I have always helped to spread all abuse awareness in April and I'm going to do it this April also.
We are creative writers, we know words hold power, so I'm hoping to see more of my fellow writers spread abuse awareness this month. If you do send me a message and I will share them. It's really important to spread abuse awareness but this year, it's even more important. Because of the  pandemic more people have been cooped up with their abusers so unfortunately abuse has become worse. The spreading of  awareness helps give victims hope and helps give people strength to not look the other way, to pick up that phone and make that call xover and over again if they have to. Please help out by even posting one poem on awareness that I will help highlight.
As midnight approaches
a calm floats over the terrain,
with the sweet sounds of night
and the patter of light rain.

Getting lost in the musical tones
thoughts drip of soft dew,
memory tickling giggles
a moment of Déjà vu.

A peacefulness through the heart
outside, the wind a soothing sound,
the light tapping of warm rain
hearts loving, souls bound.

Hearts of love, souls of light,
a touch of magic, rhythm and rhyme,
enchanting dreams, fill the night,
of love so beautifully divine.
~
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