I’d like to thank Joseph Pinto for the inspiration for this piece.
If you’d like, take a moment to read his post Whelve.
invisible drama
not acknowledged
outsiders only see camouflage
but the damage
dispensed from previous generations
lingers deep
self-preservation from the ugliness
slows the hurt
but offers no resolution
only a temporary roadblock
to the pain buried inside
which will surface
eventually…
agitation builds
imposing demonstration
the grandeur is gone
Redux
The injurious are on the prowl.
Instinctively my guard goes up.
Hurling words to pierce the psyche.
Expectedly waiting for more of a beat-down.
Another and another and another.
The taunts ricocheting inside me like a ping-pong ball.
Humiliation the game, the victor, no one.
I feel desperate and alone. I want to cry.
Fear, sadness, and agony achieved.
I don’t know how much longer I can take this!
Bored, looking for the next target to feel superior to.
I’m exhausted from this continued abuse.
I need to push myself over the edge to freedom.
Originally published 7/16/2018 on I Write Her.
The tiny slivers of glass made me blink furiously, the blood flowing freely. It’s scary dealing with this alone. As usual, Richard’s words cut just like the glass he threw at my face. He would probably paint my anxiousness as silly now. Maybe my eyes that he blinded would finally change him? Probably not.
Thankfully, I had the foresight to tape the events of tonight. In secret, of course; otherwise, I wouldn’t see the light of day for years.
I set up a meeting with the police to provide them with this sample of what I usually had to endure.
Wicked minds. Evil deeds. Innocence destroyed.
laying on her side
focusing outside herself
outside the window
at the moon
him on her bed
crushing down
on her youth
babbling incoherently
close to her face
intimate, like she’s his wife
exhaling utterances
laced with beer
scaring this ten year old
into a world
for which she was not equipped
fear gripping every inch of her
‘leave already’ she wishes to herself
not knowing what to do
when he, whom she trusts,
severs the line of decency
*Note – While this was a true event, the child was not raped, thank goodness. However, it left some emotional scars, and trust was broken as certain boundaries were crossed.
beauty means nothing
to those who would use us
satisfaction for their senses
is what they take from us
all used up
then hastily disregarded
not the first time
nor will it be the last
abusers know no different
victims of having been easily trashed too
i kept your sins sheltered within
you felt no shame, no guilt
the harm you unleashed on me
new scars, freshly laid, bloody patterns
wounds unhealing inside me always raw
the pain withered me into submission
your burden to bear by chance
my penance for choice of heart
but rage will emerge, so beware
for every injury, insult, and humiliation
there will be justice inflicted severely
bloody eye for my bloodied eye
painful welts you’ll receive from strangers
lawless games played for your ways
brutality and cruelty like i received
i’ll see you caged just like me
you made me what i am
Sad
So sad
Drawn to drama
Sucked in
By struggles felt
Empathy always given freely
Listened so patiently
Of course, comfort supplied
All needs are met immediately
Yet another tragedy appears
Tears, pain, the ugly cry
The solutions are found yet again
Now a different dire situation
A heightened angst flares so dramatically
The savior came when called, getting exhausted
Good advice, time and effort wasted
The pattern continues to repeat, not ending
Only in your world is life unjustly brutal
I’m truly feeling used, abused and recycled
It seems there is just no insight ever
Again being let off the hook from personal chaos
Why couldn’t I see it in the beginning
My heart bleeds so easily seeing other people’s pain
Damn narcissist, fooled again, I must be a slow learner
empathy is like a curse
hurting and loving
at the same time
the sounds of cruelty
sing an ugly song
the images scorch my eyes
my strength within
subsides
as my body succumbs to emotions
pain is magnified
as the suffering continues
unkind people
saying one thing
doing another
nothing but liars
abuse of all forms
killing innocence
harming possible futures
the evil sleep well
recounting their deeds
the sufferers of their wickedness do not
grieving with the harmed
wrap them in my being
losing respect and hope for this world
and aching for the vulnerable
I Write Her 