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AS Jun 26
They witness what irradiates,
finding something else to blame.

To something that would create world of pain.
Never questioning why, what for? to the toxicity they spore.

Running to conclusion to ensure,
to avoid the flaws.

To which they derived,
by the symptoms they explored and the real cause they ignored.

Unable to place their hands up, to the mistakes they make and the way they only take.

Need to be commended for basic things they do.

When complexity starts, the leaning begins to spurting out sins.

Flabbergasting that they're so unaware what actions they bare, to those who anchored on your capsizing ship.

Unable to latch onto the disgusting phrases, as of course you can't do anything wrong.

The world has to sing you praises, wrap you up in its loving embrace.

But as soon as it makes the littlest of accidental mistakes, you irradiate a full blown earthquake.

Depicting oneself as victim, oh behold no one can react to the venom that you enact.

These people seeing pass your masks, know its too late for you change from your past.

Still you like to point the blame, making those who truly care feel shame and your skilful manoeuvring of guilt.

For those who take a stand, holding a mirror to your face.

They burn and feel your wrath, spreading to their inside to fester over time.

A world of torment you unleash, but to your captives compassion and empathy they feel.

Seeing past the edges and the façade, knowing and sensing the ways you were scarred.

Those scars, destroying your life or anyone attained.

Inspiring others to run, now your beauty fades one by one company fades.

Others try to fight for the little light which was left inside, letting many years of their own lives pass by.

With you around, they flounder peace, opportunities and chance of a life they seek.

Not aware to the manipulative ensnare, how you've drained and tormented covertly with your natural flare.

They now know there is no hope, refusing you to continually keep taking their glow.

Finally taking flight, creating the most simulating, rewarding life.

Finding the person who truly lives inside, not the one who nurtured and co-dependently gave up her life.

Now the last loyal person can't standby, to the destruction that you blow and clean up the viscous shows.

She understands and knows your distance past, but knows its no excuse to be inflicting that level of abuse.

As life is to grow, to slowly flow away from the pain and strife.

Consideration and reflecting on the way you act, to protect those you love and not to react.

So on my way I go, goodbye and sympathy for the misfortunes you reproduce.

Obtuse and lonely you'll remain, sadly until your dying day.

As those who chose to stay, keep distanced from your terrain.

No longer letting you rain down shame, manipulation and guilt.

Only accepting to be hit by a light spray, these are the reasons no one will stay, living with you each day.

At this point in life there is little chance of change, but for your sake let this entitlement fade and your destructive mind frame.

It is too late, as your emotional state sees nothing or understands the inflictions you partake

© 2018
Abigail Sheard
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
The perfect Christmas gift—
not because we've been so good
but because we couldn't be
"Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress. In the past He humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future He will honor Galilee of the Gentiles, by the way of the sea, along the Jordan-- The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned. For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on His shoulders. And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."   Isaiah 9:1-2,6

" 'She will give birth to a son, and you are to give Him the name Jesus, because He will save His people from their sins.' "  Matthew 1:21

Xyrrio Aug 2016
Why has he become such a desperate little child,
It is due to the fact that he has grown wicked and wild,
All this time cut off from the world has deemed him unholy,
This child is becoming such a pesky little bully,
With heart heavy and eyes ready to relieve their tears,
"Is this the end, why am I here" he vacantly fears,

Oh dear child with your upper lip cut,
Just keep on fighting and trusting your gut.
Written by Tristan
(contains references to sensitive issues)

She’s just a babe
he’s only two
of youth refill
they’re broken in

but leave no mark  
so they're unspoiled
for clients booked
it's all arranged

no tracks you'll leave
their brain's not through
not 'til they’re three
so chill out dame

the program works
divert impel
‘'you crazy sh-t
here take this pill’

nobody hears
if told some tales
but they won't talk
their lips are sealed

from dot they’re trained
they’re here for us
don't have to guess
‘you talk, you die!’

so pay the fee
their price is high
and bring this dog
they’ll do it all

and shouldn’t you
take all you're due
you work real hard-
on nectar sup
Stop! Not so quick
for veils can lift
and imprints made
don’t ever die

archival facts
reveal themselves
when day arrives
you’ll face the Judge

and when you breach
a petal new
it injures both
and gear stick shifts

you've soiled life's bed
with squalid stains
now own the Sh-t
says mirror man


             
From time to time an instance comes to light involving well-organized abuse at an almost unimaginable level.  Children from a very young age are trained to provide all manner of sexual services to meet the demands of deviant and sadistic clients.  Contrary to what people may think, this happens not just in so-called 'third-world countries,' but in more prosperous lands too.  

Even where there is significant corroboration for the veracity of such accounts, survivors can suffer the further indignity of not being believed.  There is some movement and improvement in knowledge but more needs to be acknowledged and understood, not only by colleagues and other professionals providing care, but society at large.  

It all makes one ponder what leads a perpetrator to act this way.  Whilst it helps to understand some act out trauma they themselves received, it is unacceptable behaviour, is still a criminal offence - and it hurts others.   We all have choice to decide ahead what we would do if offered an easy way to cross that line.  Decency requires we resolve to remember who we want to be in essence and retain this reality check:  how would I feel if this was my wife, my child?   Refuse to abuse another.  

Some boundaries simply should never be breached, even if one is promised immunity from repercussions, e.g. told 'the child won't remember – it won’t hurt them.'   Many victims do remember and either way, such incursions rob them of a normal life, something many take for granted.  The truth is they are massively, negatively affected on one level or another, often in multiple ways, at whatever age such incursions take place.  

The reality is that transgressing on another's boundaries on any level not only harms the recipient but also those violating others.  It alters and destroys something in the offender, immediately recognizable or not, and by extension the wider community is affected.  

On looking in the mirror an offender may see at best a deluded half-life.  As my poem concludes, who would want to be meeting that inner witness to their corrupt and heartless behaviour, their real character looking back at them through the 'man* in the mirror...'

*(either gender can offend - some women sexually abuse too.  When a perpetrator takes a good look in the mirror of reality, they may well find themselves  confronted with the enormity of what they have done, and who they have become)
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