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Paul Hansford Feb 2016
"Try not to think about it, then it will go away."
It's the only thing they can tell me - they've nothing else to say.
But how can I control my thoughts? I can't just stop myself thinking.
My mind's eyes forever fixed on it, never even blinking.
I wish I could forget it, I wish I didn't care,
But however hard I try to forget, the memory's always there.
He'd say, "I know you like it, it's only a bit of fun,"
As he did the frightful things to me that no-one should have done.
He treated me like his property, as if I was just a toy,
But I was only a weak young girl, and he was a big strong boy.
I never ever wanted it, and I couldn't stop the pain,
But was it my fault it happened? Could it ever happen again?
And now he never goes away, he's always in my head,
Invading my body again and again, until I wish I were dead.
I can't bear the thought of holding hands, and I'm terrified of a kiss.
I want to live a normal life. Will it always be like this?

But I do want to think about it, and talk it over with you,
And if I could tell you everything, I know what you would do.
You'd take my hand so softly, and tell me, "Don't be afraid,"
And you'd say I wasn't responsible for any mistakes I'd made.
Then I'd look into your eyes and see the affection that they hold,
For I know that you believe in me with a love as pure as gold.
The first section of this poem is adapted from the words of a number of girls subjected to ****** abuse by boys/men who  have been convinced by online ******* that they can do what they want to girls.  The second section is what I think such a girl might say to one who wants to save her from this.
Richard Joerger Aug 2015
Sitting in a row I see the white,
But behind them I see their shadow monsters.
Each monster is different,
Some from abuse,
Some genetic.

Their shadows manifest in different shapes.

I see yours sitting behind you,
Its a child cowering in a corner,
A child who feels alone.
But rather than addressing your feelings
With sharpened steel you snap-
A rubber band instead.
Leaving bumps instead of bloodied hands and scars.

I see yours sitting behind you.
A man breathing flames from his eyes,
Fire burning his chest.
You've come to terms, you know how to silence the fire.
You can put the flames out and away.
It hurts me to see them.

I see yours standing behind and over you,
A barely clothed child crying
Pure sadness.
The monster had his grips, his jaws, sunk into you.
But no more.
I cannot fathom the pain. I cannot emphasize with you.
I've never had to think about that pain.
Its not fair.

But here we sit, a room of broken people,
Yet no one knows.
No one shares it because its my problem.
My life. My choice.
It just hurts to know we're one in a room of broken.
I am currently attending a summer program for minority students. I noticed a recurring theme.

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