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Myra 5d
Sixteenth of September,
six days after my sister was born
was the first time I remember it happening.

Body in my bed, I knew that was strange⁠—
I had always slept alone⁠—
but I didn’t know if it was wrong.
In school the next day
I looked around at all the girls,
I wanted to ask if this was normal.

I was twelve and I could not be sure
my body belonged to me.
I read horror stories,
compared myself to them and said,
you have faced a fraction of the full range.
I said, you were complicit,
he never told you to be silent.

I am seventeen still reading
article after article and I think:
my father is not evil,
my father does not deserve to be behind bars⁠—
who will feed my family?⁠—
but I think I would feel safer if he was.

          I think about one night
when he asked, “ does it feel good”
and I felt myself disintegrate.
I am not sure he heard what I heard:
does it feel good when I am making your body,
in which you will stand
for the rest of your life, unlivable?
Does it feel good when I am desecrating it,
when I make it unholy ground?

At the trial of our sins I will ask
God what my body is, and He will say
“it is a trust” and I will point to you and say
“then he has broken it.”
Note: At the time of writing (2018) I was Muslim. In Islam our bodies are an amanah, or trust, that is given to us.
Rozana Feb 28
reach for my hand
i will not fail you this time
protect you and chase away your fears
make the shadows of the bad men disappear
follow my voice and come to my embrace
I will paint you a different childhood
carry us to a different place
full of giggles and innocence

i need to save you to save myself
my adult-self wanting to save my child-self
Carlo C Gomez Apr 30
Little girl runs screaming to mother
about her encounter
with the ribbon man

Teenage girl believes herself
free to be a trampoline
offering all sorts a rugged bounce

Newly installed queen
rules over her anathema and sacrilege
with shiny neurotic scepter

Powerless to discern
shelter from serpent

Incapable of entering
into the kingdom of love
See the poem "She'll Hide Underneath Covers" by fellow HP writer BLT.
Ash Saveman Apr 5
Mother knows
Stranger in my bedroom
Please don't touch me

"Oh but I already have"

Mommy don't leave me
It hurts
Don't want to be touched there

"You mean like this?"

No stop
I cry
He will be back

Face smothered
Can't breathe
Please don't **** me

Be thankful
No one else could love you
Look at you pathetic mess

Please not again

Face in pillow
Hand on my throat
Knife near by

Heart pounding
Mouth dry
Tears streaming

I said no
Please stop
Don't hurt me

Hard thrusts
Body bleeding
I cant sleep
I am Home. The smell of baked goods and candles. The laughter around a bonfire and large family get-togethers. Drama lingers from past heartbreak and trouble. Dead silent in the dawn, and slowly gets louder until the next dusk. Light. The light of people and pets.

I am Trauma. The sting of pain and worthlessness. The thought of maybe it’s not worth it anymore. The abuse. The pain. The lingering sting of tears, hands on my throat, fingers digging into skin. The ****** abuse just gave inspiration to grow from.

I am Love. I fall in love quickly and deeply. The love I got from my mother, my grandparents, and friends. This showed me how to fall in love from nothingness to every single thing about a person. Love must not be perished or put out. Love teaches me how to grow every day.

I am knowledgeable. I am the books upon the dresser of my room. I learn from others and myself. I show others how to learn to become strong. I’ve learned not to drown myself in guilt from books upon books of other people's troubles. I may be knowledgeable but I’m not the epitome of knowledge.

I am the Sun. Everyone around me is like a planet in my solar system. Nobody can be the sun except myself. If I were to burn out, I would hurt others and end the solar system. Therefore, I am the sun of my own solar system.
         I am Pain. I am Suffering. I am Happy. I am Young. I am Wild. I AM MYSELF. I AM A SURVIVOR.
wrote this for english
Scrub, Scrub, Scrub
Rinse, Rinse, Rinse
I try to wash it away
The feeling of your hands
How forceful they were
You said you wanted to play
That wasn’t in your plans
Some of it’s a blur
I wish it would sink away into the tub
Then slowly whirr down the drain
The pain, the emotions, the memories
This heavy weight on my brain
I want to end my pain
Maybe I can drink it away
Maybe I can cut it away
Maybe I can smoke it away
I want to keep it all at bay
My depression weighs
Its heavy on my shoulders
But it’ll be okay
Najla Nov 2019
was the first
to steal
my innocence

will be my last
silent cry
to regain
my purity
Today was the first time I uttered the words child ****** abuse followed by the word mother. And the first time I cry in front of my therapist. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but death will.
Syd Hafner Jun 2019
I was proud
of my new red swimsuit,
but I'm not proud
of it now

He touched the strap,
and said "look
it's just us now",
so he helped me
and threw my
suit on the

Down by the river,
we didn't wear
our clothes
He put a finger
to his lips and said
no one could

he grinned a
grin filled with guile,
At the time,
I mistook it for
a fatherly smile

I had been so proud
of my new red
but I can't wear
a red swimsuit
TheRhymeRenegade Apr 2019
family friends since we were small
tracing grout in linoleum floors
I watched your dad pull those tapes out
he drew his weapon you drew yores

I can't be mad I say to this day
generations cursed
my first boyfriend shook his head
"I thought I was your first?"

there was a lump in my throat
and I thought back to that game
little frog ran over by the cars
you taught me how to skip through lanes

first friend that I ever had
I still think that you knew better
simply "child's innocence"
crayon written apology letter

floral pattern sheets
I was a flower at full bloom
until you flung me on that bed
I wilted in that room

you told me sometimes that it hurts
but it'll be super quick
that I cannot say anything
people will think I'm sick

It all goes black soon after that
red stain, metal taste, a puncture
Did the right thing after the fact
though frozen like a sculpture

you went on and on again
and never really paid
those girls carried it with them
through 1st and 2nd grade

and now I am a grown up
with something in me hollow
a little froggy in my throat that I still cant seem to swallow

I told myself I'd get better
through hell or through high water
but then felt you pluck more petals
when I heard you had a daughter
TW: molestation, ****** assault of a minor, ****
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