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yúyīn Jan 2017
Alone in bed she looks around
Afraid of what's to come
The shadows dance along her wall
She hears her daddy hum

Tears fill her eyes she starts to cry
Up out of bed she runs
And locks the door; the **** then turns
And Daddy whispers one

"Don't make me wake your mother up
To tell her you've been bad
Come give Daddy a kiss goodnight-
You're making me very mad"

She turns the key and steps away
And Daddy walks inside
Slowly shutting down again
She crawls inside to hide

Alone inside her little world
She cannot feel the pain
Innocence lost long ago
Left in a ****** stain

Images fly through her mind
First her then Kristy too
Baby Carrie's next in line
Before the night is through

Anger builds around her heart
"Please stop!" she tries to yell
But Daddy's hand is on her neck
He knows she'll never tell

She struggles underneath his wieght
As he removes her shoe
She tries to hit but misses
And Daddy whispers two

His grip on her is tightened
And his fist comes crashing down
She tries to fight unconsiousness
As Daddy rips her gown

He rolls her on her belly
Pulls her close so he won't miss
Then he enters hard and quickly
As he gives her "Daddy's kiss"

The minutes seem like hours
As she opens up her eyes
And she hears the desperation
In her little sister's cries

Daddy thrusts in one more time
Then rolls onto his back
And she just lies there motionless
And awaits his next attack

She looks into her sisters eyes
And reaches out a hand
And little Carrie reaches back
And slowly starts to stand

But Daddy isn't finished yet
And Carrie's pushed aside
He holds her down and spreads her legs
And takes another ride

She falls asleep all bruised and naked
****** and surrounded
By the sisters she had reached for
While her innocence was pounded

14 years of **** and lies
She fall into depression
And suicide is what's to come
Of a childs molestation

3 days later a little body
Washes up on shore
A suicide; her wrists are slit
But the sherrif sees much more

The headlines scream the story
Of a young girls devastation
And the silent screams that go unheard
All throughout the nation

But Kelly's story isn't through
Her secrets now unfold
For she tells them with the bruises
On her body now so cold

Now the lights flash through the windows
And there's people all around
Asking all these questions
But we don't make a sound

Kristy hasn't spoken since they
Told her Kelly died
And I am little Carrie
In a corner I now hide

Handcuffs bind his hands and wrists
The evidence they found
Her body told of the abuse
When Daddy was around

"How many?" Mommy askes of him
"How many and God why?"
And Daddy looks away from her
And Mamma starts to cry

"How many did you do this to?"
And then he looks at me
My green eye bruised the night before
And Daddy whispers "three"
This brings tears to my eyes everytime
I haven't been a victim, but this touches me very deeply.
** I can't remember the poet who wrote it
Hannah Payne Nov 2016
And I did it once again.
Skin picked and shaven,
Cakey frosted ivory,
Faceless, nameless,
Plasticity contusion.
Littered in the detailed fractures of a swelling stem,
Those skeletal twigs of intangible incestual wings,
splintered in stacks underneath his bed.
Apocalyptic comfort found in the veins of what remains...
Pineal shame,
Puny white me,
Post-karmic, futuristic-retrospective cosmic plan, slowly creeps towards me and offers its long inflaming hand.
Cricket twitch, echoes in the distant introspective glitch of my momentary intuition.
A bitter drip on tongue descends,
Tunneled in an unwanted exploration.
That sour pitched cacophony uncomfortably sung,
Through the ghastly cold touch of a righteous cockroached thumb.
Repugnance,
Spreading the stain of an untouched soul,
Quicksand, morphing me into dust.
Devouring the white and into the red I rust.
mickaela Sep 2016
Cradled,
in the warm comfort of her love,
her baby smiles.

She smiles too
and something under her heart's stony grave
shifts.

Precious,
yet more priceless than her own life,
she'd sacrifice everything.

For this child
is now everything to her
eyes

"He looks like his daddy"
Those ugly words.
Symbols of a hated life.
Hated by her mother.
And her too.


She'll live it for her baby.
She'd go to hell for her baby.
She wants heaven for her baby.


"He looks like his daddy"
Ugly, ugly words.
Nothing but bitter, rotten,

lies.

Precious,
she smiles at the world in her hands,
in her arms,
She never had something so good before.
So ugly, like his daddy.


She turns from the eyes.
His eyes.
So harsh on her shivering, sweaty skin.
******* her to the bone.
That smile.
Drool dripping from the lips.
Of that chasm of knives
And lies.


"Yes, daddy loves you"

A dog on her body.
Invading her system.
Her skeleton tied.
To his bed.
And her life.


"He looks like his daddy".
His daddy, her daddy.
Her son, his son, her brother.
His mother, her mother, his life, her life, his smile his smile his smile.
His smile.

Not his smile.

Precious. Priceless. Her world. Her life.
Not him.
Never him.

She smiles.
I watched 'Precious' for the first time a while back. That is all.
Wait, no, not all. For all the precious girls out there, I want you to know that you are called precious, beautiful and important for a reason. Never forget.
Thanks for reading <3
I guess blood ain't thicker than water
The way he held a gun to his head and said;
"If you don't **** me then I'm better off dead"
Now tell me it wasn't manipulation, and how was I not to falter
In saving myself from a man who already had caused me traumatizing trivialization

I guess blood ain't thicker than water
The way I held a gun to my head and you said;
"It's all for attention,"
I guess you thought me better to be dead.
But I tried to speak out, I tried to reach out instead
Only for you to slaughter
All hope I had sent.

I guess blood ain't thicker than water
Because people don't believe in saving grace.
Deliver me into my fate,
If I'm gone there will be no hate.
Maybe you'll see after Thanatos takes over-
A death drive to send me to a new place.
Tell the victim they're a liar,
Might as well say there's no such thing as ****.

I guess blood ain't thicker than water.
A father gives up his daughter,
A mother faded away.
A brother whose got nothing to say,
A sister whose forgotten her place.
I guess blood ain't thicker than water,
Because I'll be drowning,
blood covering the counter.
Thee lust of commandments
The same blood
You have my eyes and I have your nose
Hidden love wrapped in poetry and midnight pecks of love
I am your safety blanket
I am your lover
Once our lips caress the other
Our blood completes us and binds our dna in an entanglement of lust and secrets.
We are infinite in this moment
The moment of being alive
Alive in this universe
Together we shall not be parted again
Hand in hand
Same blood
By God we shall be punished with the wrath of society
A taboo of unholy nature
Brotherly love
J Nc Mar 2016
Way up there
In the thin, thin air
There sits a man
Who laughs and grins
And fiddles with his double chins
A lunatic, if you must know
He paces, paces,
To and fro
Not love, nor hate
Does Steve perceive
But TV programs make him seethe
Xanax, ******, amyl poppers
None of these are Steve's show stoppers
Thorazine would do him good
But he won't take it
Like he should
So Mumbling Steve will grimace/grin
Until it's time to cry again

His mother loved him not a whit
Flushed Steve away, like so much ****
He killed his daddy, uncle, too
He killed that man, with Devil's Brew
Mumbling Steve drank up the rest
Of that that killed the old ******
Then laughed and laughed
And flashed a grin
Then burned off his extra chin


JNc 3-16
Very dark nonsense. This one makes me a little uncomfortable.
PJ Poesy Mar 2016
Pleasantries aside, did you feel that tremble?
Not earthquake, it was heaven's shake

when you took me

by hand
led away

deep in wood
STOP...
and stood

Pierced constellation's reflection
Eyes sent soul's orbit
Forbidding further speak of

Harking horror
for it is tomorrow
and I still don't know your name

Or...
why your grizzly ways
Turned me into bait

Ursa Major I hear Ursa Minor

He pines for your return
...because you weakened him
The complexities of thought processing as a **** and ****** survivor. Always emphasis on survivor.
Alyssa Torres Mar 2016
"you're such a good girl."

Sour whiskey breath spread against my cheek.

"do you want this?"

I shook my head, trying to breath, to scream the words no! I don't!

"yes, you do, my good girl"

no, I don't!

"will you be my good girl?"

I promise I will be your good girl, I promise, just please don't do it again.

"you're my good girl."

*daddy, please stop
Inspired by the Fritzl Case
Brent Kincaid Dec 2015
It is one more night.
There is no light when you
Come in to do the things you do
Things that I don’t want to.
I don’t mean to taunt you
To encourage you to touch,
To touch my secret parts.
That makes me feel *****.
You say I act flirty and that’s why,
But it makes me cry.
I wish you won’t want to play
This awful game again today
That you will go play it
With Mommy.
Maybe she likes it.
I already know I won’t.
Daddy, please don’t.

Don’t get on your knees
Beside my bed and touch my head
And tell me I am pretty like a girl.
It makes my head whirl with fear.
You tell me no tears, keep quiet
And I try it, but it never works
When you **** down my unders
And I feel your fingers blunder
All around on me.
And inside me.
It’s nasty.

Daddy, please don’t do it.
I knew it was wrong the first time
And I know I’m the reason
And you say you are pleasing me
And you mean it lovingly
But it is hurting me inside.
That’s why I always cried
Even though it made you mad
I couldn’t help myself, Daddy
It hurt so badly, and you didn’t care.
You told me not to dare to tell
Or I would go to hell.
That I was a bad little boy.
You didn’t have to tell me
Because nobody will help me.
This is NOT autobiographical, but is a gestalt of ****** friends of mine have gone through and shared with me.
PJ Poesy Nov 2015
Luna Tickle eats only pickles and ***** up all the brine
When her brother tells their mother she begins to whine:
“Yes I did it! And left no tidbit
Is that such a crime? My brother smells and raises hell
And leaves the loo full of slime.”

Now their mother dear began to fear her children were obstructions
Never listening, since their christening, and wished for their abduction
So she planned a slaughter and called her daughter
Outside to the woodshed, then chopped her neck in two
She put Luna’s head in her brother’s bed and said,
“Now, they’ll be no more Boo-Hoos”

Now you know of Luna and her tragic ending
But there’s more to this rhyme that’s pending
For the Tickle name is quite insane
And was never worth defending
But that’s just what her brother did
When Mrs. Tickle met Judge Knuckle
And almost flipped her lid
Screaming:
“I never liked that kid from the day she began to suckle!
Why she couldn’t be more like me, or her lovely sister Tess”
Twas all Mrs. Tickle could confess that day to Judge and jury
Until brother **** chimed-in and confessed his sin
And did so in such a fury, it was heard throughout and within
The entire state of Missouri:

“I am Richard Tickle and do confess I am not fickle
In fact I am quite pugnacious
If you do not see the circumstances like me
I’ll be forced to be disputatious”

Interjects Judge Knuckle:
“Boy, I’ll have you buckled this instance to electric chair
If you’re not scared I’ll be splitting hairs
In a place where the sun does not shine
So if you care, you’d best beware
Or your Gherkin will be in a brine”

Now Tess screamed out and her mother did shout
In perfect unison:
“**** is my love and none the likes of any other hooligan”

At this there was a scuffle
Each dame was muffed and ruffled
They could not contain
All their angst and their pain
And it led to the ugliest tussle
For each thought ****
Was devoted to she
And apparently, this could not be
As we know of the trouble with Luna
So the jury was not out
Or even in doubt
Of these sinister makings and troubles

It was the sickest of affairs
Mass-producing glaring stares
From everyone within the court
Missouri Gazette’s headlines that day
Told of how they did slay
And burn the Tickle chalet
Leaving it in incestuous rubble
The lesson today to this horrific ballet
Is don’t live your life in a bubble
**** and ****** survival is no laughing matter, but what else could I do? I challenge anyone to read this to their children, and have an open discussion. It is a sickness to be stopped in its' tracks, as nothing good can come of it.
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