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Jo Swan 3h
Mum plays a game of hide and seek!
A dangerous game of survival
Where she can not show she is weak,
Even though there’s blood on saliva.
She carries me to a safe house
to flee from an abusive spouse.

In her arms, I sense her despair
For we live in uncertainty.
Must this be the burden we bare?
Always running in urgency
to avoid mum being a battered wife.
Must this be the game of our life
When we play hide and seek!

(c) Jo Swan
I lay in bed
And I think back
To when she was beside me
The girl I thought I was
Going to marry
And I laugh bitterly
Because the girl
I wanted to marry
Kissed someone else
And made me have anxiety attacks
She made me cry
And left me feeling worthless
And as I lay in bed
I miss her
But think to myself
That I never want to see her again
"Do not disappoint me"
My father says...

...I will try my best not to;
I will not weep when they place the veil on my head
I will not tremble when they place my hand in his.
I will not scream on my wedding night;
I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

I will give him a full household
Yet he will never be content.
But I have promised my father;
So when bruises litter my body
And my mother weeps at the sight of me
I will not shed a single tear.

I will fight;
For every blow, I will be cunning
For every strike laid upon me
I will be three times as cruel.
In this battle for my sanity
I will give all I have and then some;
I have vowed that if he tries to make life ****,
Then I will be his devil.

I will not let him **** me;
Not like they did my sisters.
No; I am no a small candle,
I am full of sound and fury
And when they tell my tale
It will signify something.

And before they lay my body
In this cold earth, where all great women go;
As my husband swears I am a demon
With blood dripping from his wounded eye
And bruises on his beaten body,
I will tell my father,
Right before he kills me
"Do not disappoint me"
And he won't...

...He will not weep when they place the shroud on my head
He will not tremble when they place me in my grave
He will not scream out and mourn
Long into the night, like his brethren.
He will refuse to give me the satisfaction.
Just something that came to me after reading some Child Bride stories, watching a few documentaries and reading some fiction books.
I was already broken, and I needed my friends,
Another relationship had come to an end,
So I went to a party where I met you, two men,
In hindsight, I wish I didn't go and had just stayed in.

Late at night I was trying to sleep,
Yet you both followed me like lost sheep,
Inviting yourselves into the bed,
My "no"'s giving you the go ahead.

You acted like all I needed was encouraging,
As if no means "sure let's just keep on going!",
After a while, I even moved to another bed,
Yet you saw that as a sign to follow me instead.

2 on 1, your advance had begun,
I felt empty, devoid of all expression,
I was your doll for you to do with as you please,
I laid there as you added me to your trophies.

One of you is done and I think it might be over,
Yet the other said it was "unfair" for him not to quiver,
I wanted to forget so I could recover,
Then days later told "its only banter".

Did you think it was a game?
That getting *** would lead you to fame?
I know that straight after you went and told your friends,
As if I was an object or a means to an end.

When I asked you to stop gossiping your medal,
You blamed, insulted and implied that I was viral,
After it all that was the first time I cried in shame,
Because somehow, you made me believe I was the one to blame.

It's only now, years later, I realise it was wrong,
The "me too" movement has my mind dropping truth bombs,
The more I think about it the more I might explode,
These mental scars of trauma are all I have to show.

Do you know what its like to constantly think about?
To try every day to block it all out?
You probably don't even know or think about what you've done,
My body was just an object, a conquest that you won.

I don't know how long my mind will be haunted,
I still have to come to terms with being assaulted,
It's a brand my body and soul will always bear,
Except now I get freedom and hope from prayer.

Because my *** is great, and He forgives all sin,
And it is through him that I have gained new skin,
"Forgiving one another, as *** in Christ forgave you",
It is by him and for him that I forgive you.
Elyse E 1d
dear brother,
today is just another day, like any other.
the sun warms the grass on our front lawn.
we're low on groceries, so our parents are gone.
today’s the first day that you'll put your hands ‘round my neck,
and tell me that i was what made you do it.
no one here, not around, not a single person to check,
only me to console you when you say that you rue it.
and when they return, no pain shall be found,
because you're a good boy when others abound.

dear brother, i know
that you let your hurt show
by shifting to me. no one else understands
the weight of your looks, the strength of your hands.
push me down stairs, throw me at walls,
try to decipher this confusing world
by drowning out help and starting our brawls.
i'll try not to listen to the fear that you've hurled
at me because i understand that this is a wave
lapping at the peace you so desperately crave.

dear brother, it seems that you are odd.
when others hurt others, we say they are flawed,
but you just can't help the things that you do.
i used to blame hate, but i know that's not true.
i'll never comprehend the life that you live
because i'm neurotypical. ease is all that i know.
but you are not me and have nothing to give
when society asks you to not let it show.
so fists and fury will give you your vice,
even though our joined suffering is its final price.

dear brother, we never were born to be strong,
but i've been for you through these fights all along,
because i can mend my mind when it needs healing,
but yours is too different to cope with the feeling
of lost, of love, of clothes that you wear,
and maybe it's true. maybe this is too much
for me to sacrifice but you know that my care
is all that i offer when you lose your touch
with reality. i stand to have much to lose,
but we've found out who's more likely to bruise.

dear brother, perhaps i never will be
able to say the right words and let you run free
from the memories i've grown and the nights i have lost,
because all i can think is how much it would cost
to give you some medicine, make everything gone.
you tell me you're broken and must lose this life.
i promise you this, i will wait for your dawn,
and the day will come that you no longer have strife.
because, in the end, who cares who started what
when all that matters is who's in the rut?

dear brother, i'm no saint and i'm certainly no safety.
i overthink things and am often too hasty
to judge and to jump to conclusions about you,
but at times like this, whenever i drew
those lines in the sand, trying to push you out,
were not because i don't love you or **** you for joy.
i did not understand what you were trying to shout:
that your fights and your frights were your version of troy.
you hid all the unsure under abuse and absence,
and now, forevermore, i'll break down your fence.
(our shared blue-steel eyes, our disheveled brown hair.
i will try, dearest brother, to finally be fair.)
Chris 1d
The door jumps  to life.
The stairs growl under hate.
The growling from outside the door.

The dog, barking at the cat for tricking him into giving up his life.
The cat, slyly claiming she only did it to fix what little remained.
The rodent, behind thin walls watches but sees his chance to leave.

The dog, biting with it's teeth, and the cat, scratching with it's claws.
The rat, biding it's time slips out never to be seen.
The crows see the maimed dog and the mauled cat, they question why this happened and why they did this but not who else was affected.
After all those years
I've found a voice
from within the
poems I
A voice for all those
who suffer afraid
to speak
For fear of reprisal
from there abusers
as I was
If you can find a way
speak then don't
suffer In
Nearly 65 years old
when I finally faced
my Demons did so
through the poems
I write
Abused as kid took me nearly 60 years to
face my demons did so through the poems I write
Gray 2d
mold me

        make me

             what you want

make me what you--
      what you want to be
pose me



touch me
          control me
                 absolutely crush me
      hold me
               enfold me--


mold         me
         make      me
pose           me
        break       me
this is directly inspired by a special thing i like to call Being A Doormat...
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