do you ever
stop
for a moment
from your lurid glances
through beady middle aged eyes
sweaty palms groping feverishly
through my nylon soccer shorts
at junior boys' camp,
do you ever
stop
to think
beyond your own
abusive selfish intentions
to a world
beyond
your decrepit
**** *******
rotten soul?
do you ever stop?
I share this autobiographical poem in the hope that it helps other survivors and STOPS any abusers! I am 21 now and at peace with myself, but it's a rough road strewn with anger and bitterness and demons from the past haunting the present. You can get over it and you can move forward and I'm still writing my story... :)
