****WARNING : Strong Language****


“Who am I and what have I done” is what I have asked from a young age.
Why is it I hate to read, yet I am still forced to turn the next page.
I sit confused as I see the words. A past morbid and somewhat unkind,
I can’t grip reality as it is a burden that released a monster
that disturbed my mind.
I hated a life in which I did not like.
I hid myself because I could no longer give.
I cut myself because I hurt deep down,
and I tried to cease life because I could not live.
I was blinded to what lay in front me, a life which I started to destroy.
A life in which I created. My precious little boy.
So caught up in a past which I can not change. I know the pain is here to stay,
Yet I know I can look at things different
and possibly handle them in a different way.
How does one look upon a child and ask how did they come to be?
When that child I am looking at is the one I left behind,
because that little child is me.
When people ask “why are you so angry” I retort “I am sick of being tested.
If shit isn’t hard enough, I remember when I was molested.
A dirty old fuck came into my room, and stuck his dirty tongue in my mouth.
My sanity was destroyed. I discovered hate.
And from that point on my life went south.
At nines years old how do you think? How are you suppose to feel?
Do you pretend it didn’t happen? Do you start to believe it wasn’t real?
But you know it was real because it fucking hurt
And you tell your parents and they yell at you. You are the one beserk.
You get betrayed by your protectors, the one’s who are suppose to be strong.
Didn’t Mummy and Daddy love me enough? What the fuck did I do wrong?
Did I ask to be violated? Did they not hear me scream?
For eighteen long years I’ve had the same god damn fucking dream.
You get older you realise that your life is not right.
You scream again and this time you put up a fight.
You tell your partner the reason why you hate to kiss,
Because it was stolen through near hit and miss.
You have a breakthrough because your mum is about to die
You realise your need to do something so you expose the family lie.
You write letters and statements and make your self prepared,
And it’s like your nine years old again because they act like they never cared!
You ask for their help. They turn a blind eye and block you out.
Not this time. I will scream. I will kick. I will fuck you up. I will shout.
I will tell the world how you let a man come into my room and destroy my life
And you can tell my husband that it’s hard for me to be a wife.
You can tell the world how you kept the secret and let me cut my self,
Never once telling a doctor why I did what I did,
you let me question my wealth.
I’ve broken my bones. Tested my pain while ripping out my hair
All because you let me suffer. You made me believe you didn’t care.
I finally tell the police. It is my turn to tell the story.
To get my justice will heal my soul. It would be my ultimate glory.
But why this one man, when it happened all the time,
I was scared it would happen again so I prevented the crime.
I was butchered, teased, mutilated and abused.
I numbed my pain. Yet I was still confused.
No one knows the depth. No one will ever hear,
And no one will truly know what I hide behind this tear.

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