Four little girls in a queen size bed
Nine, eight, five and three
Eight years old I still wet the bed
Always tried to blame it on the little baby
But every one knew it was big ole me
I would often dream
I was in the bathroom sitting on the throne
I couldn't’t wake up in time
When I did I prayed I would
Be dry as a bone
Never the less it was not to be
But, by waking up wet
Daddy wouldn't’t come
And play with me
Restless sleeper I would often wake
At the slightest noise anyone would make
I think unconsciously I was on guard
Pretending to be hard to wake
For night time visits I couldn't’t take
In the middle of the night
As the bed sank down
His weight quietly a-light
Sister crying tears unheard
I dare not move or he would see
Then maybe next it would be me
Pretending to still be sound asleep
Inside my heart quietly breaks
As I too tearlessly start to weep
Not knowing exactly what he’s doing
Saying words I can not hear
But knowing his hand should not be
NO it should not be there
When morning comes no one will say a word
Of what I saw and though I heard
Not daddy, not sister, not me
Thankful for as old as I am
I still could not hold my pee
Mama, why tell me why
Why didn't’t you know?
Just another embarrassment as she shook
Out the sheets and to everyone she would show
Once again I had wet the bed
Once again I wished I was dead
The first time in my life
Through my tears I write this down
Maybe through the telling some
Peace can be found
For I don’t think I can come this way again
Some memories are best left alone
Not lived over and over but buried deep within
Yet I write this poem
Because I truly care that others
Have survived
So much more pain than I
And yet still remain sane
Author notes
This writing does not define the act of slavery as in peddling a child’s flesh for sale but the enslavement and the destruction of a child’s very essence and dreams that can destroy from within as well.
Written November 2nd, 2006
PROMPT: Write Me To Tears by SilentMoonlight.
I wrote this poem as closure to events of my past that I had never dealt with. I had never told anyone in my family of this night not even my sister that I knew what had happened. Even though I never confronted the person involved because of his dying before I came to terms.
A contest entry
- Write Me To Tears by SilentMoonlight.
2700 points, ended November 3, 2008, 67 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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outstanding
you have given me inspiration today, to take inhand memories on the wind that i cannot quite catch or piece together and bury them this is a very special piece of writing, i hope your life is better now, you will remain in my thoughts always thankyou littlefishone
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I agree with silentMoonlight, it was disgusting, sad.
It makes me think, it makes me a bit angry as well that this happens to kids. -
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I had the same feelings inside of me every day but by writing this I can disassociate mysefl from the events. Which is a form of healing for me. Thank you for commenting. God Bless,
Jo-Ann
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This was disgusting to read put sadly true. I swear sometime there should be licenses to give out just to make sure that the person is a good parent.
As I said this was sad very gut wrenching and made me think a lot.
Great write thanks for entering! -
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Thank you for commenting. God Bless, Jo-Ann
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Thank you Janet for giving me the courage to write
I think you may have changed my life
Don't worry I'm not copying your style
Imatation is a form of flattery so I'll just do it for a little while. LOL God Bless
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Thank You Johnny D
Edited on Nov 05, 8:33 p.m. because ''. -
Darling
I once too peed
while having certain dreams
arising with a need
to end abuse's means.
Smoosh
Janet -
Jo Ann
Bless you a thousand fold and peace be to your thoughts
JD -
Thank You
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A DEEPLY EMOTIONAL AND TOUCHING WRITE
A deeply emotional and heart-wrenching write
So much happens to so many that go unnoticed and we should always be aware of others sadness and be there for them.
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Abdul Tawala Ibn Ali Alishtari
Abuse though not slavery
is still a pedestry
and no single allegory
will change its history.
The horror of feeling
unsafe with fears reeling
is known by slaves
delivered by thuggish knaves.
Abdul Tawala Ibn Ali Alishtari
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