Scratches & scars you gave
me that lie beneath my skin
what you stole from me,
that young scared girl
of five, 8 years then I
let it go on, fighting between
sheets, drowning, muttering
about the shapes on the wall
to you
back aches & visits to the
hospitals in my head.
At eleven I was trapped,
while again and again it
happened
mummy at the store
mummy at work
mummy down the hall
cleaning the stove, the dishes
while you choked me with
the fear of family members
with eyes gouged out
to keep me yours.
At twelve I fought back,
told the woman scared shitless
of your skeleton while the people
in dusty suits & squeaky shoes stood
in empty rooms calling my mother
a liar.
At thirteen they decided to stuff
me in a room with you for over
an hour, twice, while women hungry
for my fear sat me in a soggy
blue chair seven feet from you,
they used big words that I had always known
to describe my symptoms
of 'a small, thirteen year old only
trying to please her mother'
while you crossed your legs, mannerisms
I adopted at eight fighting to break
through my facade, with hands folded
in your lap, and echoed the lies my
mama told me you had spat in court
to those hollow lawyers.
they all believed me a liar
and because I waited,
I could save no other.