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.*
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 9:42 PM UTC
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.*
no offence meant.
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