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Pamela Apr 28
Their souls scarred,
Waiting to be put out of their agony
Their suppressed screams go unheard, even by the confines of their senses
Disquiet and shame rattles them inside out
Battered by the vile fingers of uncouth passion
When trust is broken, all is gone.
Poor souls, with poor poor eyes
Eyes like puddles, teary and bleary
Reflecting the depths of their misery
When all is despair and there is no place to turn to
When there isn't a single ear to listen to their horrors
When there isn't a single hand, outstretched to lead them from darkness to light
Stomachs rumbling, mouths mumbling
They lie there, curled up and desparate
Wondering when they'd vision daylight once again
Musing if some miracle would ever beget justice
What did they ever do to deserve this ?
Whom did they wrong ?
Lend a hand, oh lend a ear
Lend a heart, to one that knows only fear
For that's wherein lies goodness and hope.
ari Mar 29
from the ripe age
of 8 years young
i found myself with
too much access
to a dangerous place
where scary men lurk
to steal little girls like me
"you're beautiful," they'd say
"i love you"
"if you leave i will **** myself"
grooming me like a
villain's lapcat
luring me into a
fake love so that i may
be violated over and over again
conditioned to be a victim
of manipulative animals
who treat me, a child,
like a lover
"i've always liked younger girls,"
my brainwashed mind
blushing at the idea
that someone, somewhere
thought i was worthy of "love"
trigger warning for ******* mention
imehsahdehahs Feb 28
That's little bit

Adam and kidd

I **** every

little **** eye meet

1 is to eat

2 is for M eat

3 is trouble SUM

making my own tinder

is kinder ( ha ha ha)

hades ******'s hole

complex like

Madonna & the *****

so is it  death ride or row?

No need for *******

so is it  death ride or row?

No need for *******

spit me or swallow me,Alice

spit me or swallow me,Alice

spit me or swallow me,Alice


come with me to where the rainbow's end

come with me to where the rainbow's end

come with me to where the rainbow's end

IF you get out never look back

this is the house of leaves

this is the house of leaves









Farout Jan 31
           One word,
Timeless damage condensed to
           Six letters.
That are scented like cheap, Dollar store, perfume
           Titled “Heavenly”.
The stench that you burned into my nostrils,choking me,
            Suffocating me.
A word whose name taste like poison on my battered tongue,
             Bitterly sweetless,
Just like the ***** pouring like fountains from your fingertips,
             Sugar-laced manipulation.
It’s adorned with purple, the colour of the rich,
            Of royalty,
Yet, worn by a wayward, penniless, and perverted sinner,
             Guiltless, guilty.
It’s a word that purrs, “You’re so mature” as its filthy palms grasp my flesh,
             Robbing me.
Robbing me straight from the cradle I slept so ignorantly,
             So soundly.
Stripping me naked as I was born, yet wasn’t I just yesterday?
              Too young.
Far too young to carry the weight of your skin,
               Your sins,
                                           My regret.
CarolineSD Oct 2019
These secret gardens are watered by tributaries of pain
That cut through the wild meadows that fall from the edges of the mountains,

The waters run deep in the fertile dirt
And though they slice hard with the knife-edges of agony,
They nourish the most beautiful

Fields of the rarest wildflowers and thick forests of enchanted aspen and pines.

The pain.

It grows terrible things in the darkness
But look,
Look how beautiful your wilderness is
In the light.

I place my hands on your heart.
Inside, there is a small child,

Shattered by violence

And I am just trying to say
That all of your secret gardens of pain,
Those hidden corners in which I played,

Never, ever, held any shame.

The depths of your brokenness and the strength of your love for me
Felt just the same.

I grew in your meadows of sorrow and your tears they watered my spirit

Like rain.
Mom, you endured more than most people could survive, and all of it, even your agony, even your brokenness, it was always beautiful to me. I miss you.
ALesiach Jul 2019
The Sandman comes to her around seven,
she prays for dreams sweet as heaven.

But sometimes the dreams,
awaken her with screams.

Monster do not always come in closets,
monster sometimes seem quite modest.

Awakened in a cold sweat,
frightened near death.

Nightmares do not always come in dreams,
nightmares do not always make you scream.

ALesiach © 09/19/2014
ALesiach Jul 2019
A porcelain doll sweet and shy,
lives in a world of mistreatment and lies.
In the shadows and darkness he does come in,
leaving a doll broken, shattered within.

Tiny hands reach out, comfort they seek.
Only to be told, lies they speak.
Trembling and emotionally scarred,
a doll's heart is broken and flawed.

ALesiach © 10/05/2014
ALesiach Jul 2019
Beyond this door
and in this house.
If walls could speak,
these would weep.

There is no laughter,
there is no love,
There is only tears
and a young girl's fears.

She escapes to her room
and tries to be quiet.
If there is no sound,
he will not come around.

The moon watches
in the window near.
As she cowers in bed
and screams 'NO' in her head.

On the verge of madness,
she watches the **** turn.
His sweat fills the air,
all she can do is stare.

He draws her near,
more poison for her mind.
He drags her to hell
with no one to tell.

ALesiach © 01/01/2015
ALesiach Jul 2019
In this garden
the roses have all withered
the sparrows no longer twitter
the day is dark and bitter

In this garden
a rusty gate swings in the wind
a faded pinwheel gently spins
a sad little girl swings within

In this garden
the trees are brown and rotten
the youthful dreams are forgotten
the little tears fall often

In this garden
the land lays in dark repose
the stream no longer flows
the little eyes bare pain untold

In this garden
once there was beauty here
once laughter flowed sweet and clear
once there was vigilance near

ALesiach © 05/22/2015
Merilingwen Jun 2019
The dark hours she spent,
Staring at the family photograph,
Smiling at the familiar faces,
Craving for the good old laughs.

“I’m there in the middle”,
Whispered a marred heart,
Those faces were so captivating,
The picture was a fine art.

Her lonely gaze deepened,
As the reality emerged strong,
The child in her was fooled,
But she couldn’t hold long.

Her mother’s love had scarred her,
The tender touch was savage,
Her father was a REAL man,
but his daughter was born damaged.

Her body was a masterpiece,
Engraved with words of gold,
But those carved by her family,
Ran deeper through her soul.

Finally, one blessed night,
She fell numb under the moonlight,
Carelessly dreaming of love,
Leaving the collapsed body behind.

Just then a thought pierced my mind,
Will they ever try to find,
The child from the photograph,
Who went missing one night.
A poem on Child Abuse
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