do you ever stop for a moment from your lurid glances through beady middle aged eyes sweaty palms groping feverishly through my nylon soccer shorts at junior boys' camp, do you ever stop to think beyond your own abusive selfish intentions to a world beyond your decrepit **** ******* rotten soul? do you ever stop?
I share this autobiographical poem in the hope that it helps other survivors and STOPS any abusers! I am 21 now and at peace with myself, but it's a rough road strewn with anger and bitterness and demons from the past haunting the present. You can get over it and you can move forward and I'm still writing my story... :)