In the dark of the night he slithered in,
With whispered kisses and borrowed skin.
Soft were the hands that pulled me neer
Love was the mask he chose to wear.
But under the warmth a shadow stirred,
A serpent silent, without a word.
In tall night grass his hunger lay,
Watching the lamb that lost its way.
An untouched body beneath his gaze,
A child still wrapped in innocent days.
He walked my skin like stolen ground,
While somewhere deep my heart would pound.
My innocence broke without a sound,
Like shattered glass upon the ground.
Helpless was I, too small to fight,
A trembling soul inside the night.
His whispers coiled like venoms breath,
Laced with threats that tasted of death.
Speak and your world will fall apart,
So silence buried a bleeding heart.
Used like a toy at his command,
A puppet pulled by a cruel hand.
The years moved on, the wounds grew numb,
Yet shadows linger where dreams should come.
Even now in the quiet night,
In cold sweat I wake from phantom fright.
I ask the dark what I did wrong
Why I was chosen all along.
Why was it me and nobody else?
Was I too gentle, too much myself?
A wounded child beneath that spell,
Still blaming the boy who never could tell.
Mar 15
Mar 15, 2026 at 2:44 AM UTC
In the dark of the night he slithered in,
With whispered kisses and borrowed skin.
Soft were the hands that pulled me neer
Love was the mask he chose to wear.
But under the warmth a shadow stirred,
A serpent silent, without a word.
In tall night grass his hunger lay,
Watching the lamb that lost its way.
An untouched body beneath his gaze,
A child still wrapped in innocent days.
He walked my skin like stolen ground,
While somewhere deep my heart would pound.
My innocence broke without a sound,
Like shattered glass upon the ground.
Helpless was I, too small to fight,
A trembling soul inside the night.
His whispers coiled like venoms breath,
Laced with threats that tasted of death.
Speak and your world will fall apart,
So silence buried a bleeding heart.
Used like a toy at his command,
A puppet pulled by a cruel hand.
The years moved on, the wounds grew numb,
Yet shadows linger where dreams should come.
Even now in the quiet night,
In cold sweat I wake from phantom fright.
I ask the dark what I did wrong
Why I was chosen all along.
Why was it me and nobody else?
Was I too gentle, too much myself?
A wounded child beneath that spell,
Still blaming the boy who never could tell.
A haunting poem about the trauma of ****** abuse, tracing the loss of innocence and the lingering scars it leaves behind. It reflects the pain, confusion, and lasting impact of a violation that was never the survivor’s fault.
