I was molested...
she finally wrote these words
in an old weary diary, tired.
...at a tender age of seven,
I was,
Tears rolled down and she scribbled again,
this old woman suffered, approaching her death.
I work as a nurse in this quite hospital
and two months ago, I was given the job to take care
of her, The silent and reserved old lady never spoke to me.
but when two men I guess older than her
paid a visit, she somehow seemed happy rather satisfied.
after they had left, she began writing and I became
curious.
she wrote further...
by a pair of two teenage brothers, twins.
I never knew what had happened to me was so
critical. I thought they just played with me.
I grew up and before soon I realised it was wrong and punishable.
I...I kept quite.
I pretended to live a normal life
with a wretched heart.
the sad ones they say
but no matter what
I just couldn't stop thinking about it.
very soon I was a teenager too.
I developed new ways to  turn my misery into laughter.
They... were people we had known for a long-time
and they'd visit home at least three times a year or so
and when they would I saw guilt in their eyes.
Before I could even understand I fell in love with one of them.
I didn't tell just like they won't ask for forgiveness
or I was not so confident to confess.


O ye tears hanging up to her eyelashes
find way down and wash
pain from her beautiful heart
with the same purity of aught.

as she closed the diary she said wiping her tears;
sometimes, I feel like the floor
a quite muse to adore
how important
but forgotten.
sometimes, I feel like the sky
the highest of prides
however distant
but remembered in your heart.