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I forgot to remember to forget all the bad days In my life like when abused as a kid at the hands of my mother beaten with a wooden brush

I forgot to remember to forget the days I was sexually abused by own brother even though my parents knew they aloud It to happen

I forgot to remember forget all the days that I suffered haunting memories of *** abuse and beating I suffered at the hands of my
mother
Memories of abuse suffered as a child 60 years on they still haunt me send a shiver down my spine
Julian Delia Jan 21
Stricken-down, struggling and stranded,
Dealt a hand that was quite underhanded.
I am done with never settling down,
Always having to run –
I am standing my ground stubbornly,
I am a storm of sounds,
Discourteously curmudgeonly.

I will not accept defeat -
I feel naught except the beat,
The rhythm, the flow, the show –
The hurt dissipates as I let go.
On these two feet,
I fight the finite, finicky, fraudulent conmen of deceit.
It’ll serve you right when you get roasted by the roaring heat,
When mother death cometh with hungry babes at her ****.

Stranded or at ease, it doesn’t matter,
Landed like a breeze, serving poetry on a platter.
I’ve been feeling like my time is really up,
Like there’s the ceiling and all I can do is get numb.
That, or just ******* wander off and die;
Just like that, with no explanation as to how or why.

I can’t go on like this, I can’t blow off life’s bliss.
Thing is, if I knew I was going to die and live on somewhere else,
I can’t even think of what I’d actually miss.
I don't know what to do with my poetry to be honest...doesn't really seem like anyone wants to read it, anymore. Maybe it's time to let go.
Steve Nov 2014
Hey Ma, now that’s a nice smile
Come into the garden and let’s talk for a while
Time’s moved on since last we spoke
Time’s the devil and that’s no joke
So what’s it like having a 60 year old son?
And what do you think of the old man I’ve become?
I can see you laughing at the very idea
You’ve not changed at all, have you my dear?
The love that we share and the things that we said
Burn like fire as they run through my head
Together let’s walk this last dusty mile
Arm locked in arm, smile locked in smile.
No thought for tomorrow or death's musty play
Truth is the moment we shared this day.
A bit premature my birthday isn't till next February but the day is on my mind. :)

— The End —