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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
Ayeshah Aug 2016
Mind racing thoughts

As I screamed;  
with my mouth closed;
  too afraid to open up
and
let the voices  out

Who
knows what they'd say;
if allowed to shout Loudly
what's always
in
my head.

Secrets
left
unkempt
have ways
of
coming out.

Shhhhhhhhh

Please  don't  tell!

(
they'll send me away again with medicine & try to  make me forget *)
© 2015-2077 by Ayeshah K.C.L.N.
All rights reserved.
No part of this may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,without prior written permission of Ayeshah K.C.L.N
Veronica Jul 2016
Being molested as a child
Is something so digusting,
Knowing my mother knew
And told me never to say anything and kept herself quiet,
Makes me grow more anger against her
Makes me want to wish her the worst
Like i do for that molester,
Hate the fact that now that i had the courage of speaking up,
No one in my family had my back,
I feel so sad and alone,
Because i notice that the family i had
Was not a family at all,
I wish they were all in my shoes
And feel the way i do
See things through my eyes
And see the scars he left behind,
Wish they felt the way i do at times.
Where i feel my body disgusted
And cant be touched,
Wish they would go through what i go through
Where i cant let my partner love me
The way i wish i could be love,
When my partner touches me
I feel used
I get this ***** feeling
And start feeling blue.
It hurts me to know that once i told who i thought was my sister,
What her husband had done to me
Her response was "it is what it is."
From that moment on,
that sister died
And was erase from my life,
I hate anything that has to do with them
I cant even stand hearing their names,
Honestly i hope you guys the worst
And dont judge me for i am who i am thanks to this monsters that i had to be raised by
Im just glad i have part myself away,
Because i dont want my kids
to go through what i did.
I will always speak for them
For i dont want to be that monster
That never did anything.
I was molested when i was little like around 5 or 6 maybe even younger but my memory can only remember that far .. anyways i was molested and told my mom when i was young and again when i was 16 years old and she told me to stay quiet. I told her i was going to tell my dad and brother and she scared me off saying if i do they would go to jail because they would **** that pervert. She said i would come out on the news and no guy would want to be with me. Because i was molested. Now as an adult i had the courage of speaking she still tried to insist not to say anything but i told her she doesnt control me anymore i told her nothing is going to scare me and the whole family needed to know who this pervert really was. She now says she didnt say anything because i was 16 years old and i was old already. I honestly hope that lady who i called mom and that person i called sister and her nasty husband the worst and im glad she and the one who i thought was "my sister" is out of my life. I cant ever forgive them. That lady who i also consider My mom keeps being that evil person helping anyone that wants to hurt me.
dorian green May 2016
He is who i think of after any ****** encounter
He is the ***** feeling under my skin

it is Him that i think of
it is Him that holds my innocence hostage
i ache knowing He stole my special moment
He took from me what was supposed to go to someone i love

He is the bitter taste on my tongue after i call someone "baby"
He is the terrifying ****** thoughts i have
He is the fear i feel when i'm in a room alone with a man

He is the fear.
dont ****** kids, youll **** em up
Nick Moser Apr 2016
I've never been good at coloring in between the lines.

Because I leave no space in between these lines that are made,

When the blade molests my skin.
Color me silly.
Gourab Banerjee Apr 2016
And,by the time
I know there's no love defined
Some of you find it in a beautiful face
Some in overwhelming flesh.
And,by the time
I know there's no love defined
Some of you find it in chiselled curves
Some just in alms.
Some of you play with organs
Some of you kind of ruthless heart.
But,I swear;over time time
I really discover
There's no love defined.-17.04.2016
Kimberly Eyers Apr 2016
Splattered
Like spaghetti sauce
On a baby's white highchair-

That's your inner life.
Red, dried, this is going to stain.

You swallowed bullets, and then they shot inside you.

Like an old broken computer,
You're bigger, and you look fine,
but you whir (and hum) at the slightest touch;
overheating.

Like not wearing underwear under your clothes,
everything is scratchy and a little raw and you feel more vulnerable.

You feel everyone must know. How could they?

Only if they notice.
Or
If they lure you into taking off those "I've got it together" clothes.
Which nobody can do anymore.
Because ******, you're going to integrate that ****.

Wear that rawness like the Emperor in his new clothes.
Be your own mischievous taylor.
Laugh like a baby at the spaghetti stain.
Spit the bullet shards out
at kids so they don't do the same thing you did.
I've kept this pain away.
Held it at bay,
since the day
of Your
unwanted
touch.

Now You are old.
I take care,
as this is My loving
duty. Reversal of
roles.

Time has stilled
the tremors
of angst.
Turmoil and
discomfort.

Yet, when bothered,
Your harsh tones
enter My body
and heart,
unwanted.

Perturbation
with words,
accusations that
I was the
troubled one...

Grown Woman
that I am,
I find myself
11 years old
once again


Copyright © 2016. Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
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