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on the 20th of February 1987,
a young boy realised there was no Heaven,
***** by a priest he would trust with his life
****** muddy tears as he cried out to Christ,

the pain and the shame twisted in him like a knife
harrowing and harrying the rest of his life,
the guilt and MORE shame-now he's the one to blame?
tyrannical abuse has put his soul in the frame

like Dorian Gray,his life is fading away,
like the thousands of others betrayed in the same way,
by authority figures with a license to abuse

who look on their sacred charges as toys to use
you seem confused,you've never seen it on the news?,
decades of abuse kids ***** and abused,
and the Nuns just as bad Girls treated like slaves,
innocent Babes buried in shallow graves

The grubby crimes committed by a small proportion
from child abuse to forced slavery and abortion
the conduit to heaven is a broken kaleidescope,
grubby Cherubim Satanicus removed all hope. rpt x 2

Cry til you have cataracts, modern day Cataphracts
trapped in the catacombs by the evil Tesseract,
of twisted trappings of a dead gods worship,
the treasure Galleons turned out to be Warships,
loaded with diseased idols that turn on you like the Ark,
eyes burnt out by evil primeval sparks,
friendly dolphins were revealed to be Sharks,
as you slowly slip...ever further in the dark.
This Poem and it's "Brother"- Unchristian was one of the most difficult things I've ever written.(it's not 100% finished,I need my full strength to finish it off)
Every PIECE of it is fact not fiction,I tried to tell My Story and that of my Friends old and new who suffered at the hands of monsters who claimed to be angels.

IS IT a small proportion? We'll never know how many.

Nemis 4d
Broken clocks fixing the time,
The elegists are singing the hymn.
The sky shedding its tears,
As for who will bear the bearer.

The ink is fading as the time is near,
The ticking of the clocks is all I hear.
Second-by-second, minute-by-minute,
Can't let them be my source of despair.

Running before time to end up straight,
Just to find it was written in the fate.
I hit them hard they hit me back,
Gained a moment, lost a million days.
I wrote this by imagining what it would be like to fight the time, the clocks. Clocks gone rogue and pardon for mistakes, as there'll be...
Just Ty 6d
Is it just me or maybe it’s that I am just a different breed
For there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do when it comes to my seed
I would walk the distance just to be able to put food on the table
I go by many different names but bad father isn’t one of those labels
I don’t understand how parents are ok with just getting by
Because I would do anything for my kids to touch the sky
Maybe I’m wrong and maybe they are doing all that they can
But perception is reality so you have to understand,
Where I am coming from for Im not trying to be the bad guy
I am just asking the questions that we all want to know; why?
Why is it that you have enough money for your drugs
While your children’s stomach is the only thing they’ll hug
These children are walking around with holes in their shoes
All while every Friday night your cabinets are stocked with *****
Isn’t it annoying to see all these dead beat
But dead beat mothers isn’t a conversation to be had
Doing more than what we are doing for our children is my only wish
Because they are the victims here for they didn’t ask for any of this
All was well
Until it was not
Why do I suffer now?
Am I doomed to rot?

Bombarded by thoughts
Fly buzzing around light
Caged in prison walls
Without a hope in sight.

I was the dancing rain
And the blazing fire
How I became a pond
When river was the desire.

Highflier once kissing skies
Mired now in those threads
Walking puppet but stuck
In a pit of thorny beds.

Should I continue how?
A wind came whispering
Shed the prison foundations
And enjoy life's pudding.

Suffering ever present
Illusions masked as halo
Pain being excruciating now
Revealed hidden volcano.

Quenching the thirst
Haven built with lust
Does iron kept unchecked
Not get eaten by rust?

Acknowledge, acknowledge
The fear to unlock
For it is the only key
To open the lock

Suffer more or less
Depends on you
Observing it however
Will sail you through.

Beware of braking midway
You will only suffer more
For the crumbling foundations
Won't be a safe haven anymore.

Don't mistake it to be easy
The path of flowers and thorns
You must treat them alike
To experience life's precious forms.
Lily Mae Sep 27
Who am I?  In comparison to this young woman with three children and a newly diagnosed brain tumor why her?  Beautiful and young with purpose.
I'm old.  I've abused myself and have allowed others to follow.  The wrinkles on my face aren't Mother natures gift of time.   It's a badge of trauma from an unworthy life.
So why am I here and why is she being tested?
Life is unfair.  All I could do is place my hands on her crown and breathe the healing into the places of "dis"ease.
All I could do is hold her soul and lift her up with spirit.  All I could do is love her from this place of knowing about brokenness.
All I did was wipe her tears away and love her.
Why her God...and why me?
A client today.  It made me sad to see such a vibrant woman, young, beautiful with life purpose be brought to her knees.  xoxo
Empire Sep 23
I'm so successful
In their minds
I can function
I am bright
I smile
I laugh
I'm capable
I'm eloquent
I'm responsible
I have a good job
I'm quite skilled at it too
I've got impressive grades
I'm steps ahead in school
I'll have a high-paying career
I've got it all together
I've perfected "success"


I'm not happy
I want to cry
I want to rip my heart out of my chest
I desire to make myself weak
I don't want to care for myself
I don't have friends
I don't have support
I'm utterly alone
I'm suffering terribly
I can't keep my thoughts straight
I struggle to keep the darkness at bay
I'm in ruins

I guess that's success.
They used to call me "gifted"
Deadwood Jawn Sep 22
I think I ...
I need someone's hand
on my heart for a while...
It aches. So bad.
some of us are born
with a brokenness
that warps spines
thins blood
and harbors diseases
even the doctors cant diagnose.
Esther L. Krenzin
Empire Sep 20
It’s right there!
I can see it, smell it, taste it
But I cannot indulge in it
No, that would be wrong!
Of course!
And I do no wrong...
That’s what they say, anyway
They don’t even know I crave it.
Every possible scenario
Every method
Every option
To keep it secret yet give in
Running over and over in my head.
I just need to try
Can I, please?
Sure, you look down upon it
But why can’t you just let me try?
I’m getting really desperate
The desire hurts
Because it just might
Even just barely
Release me from these chains
It might ease the pain
It’s nearly worth the risk
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