shes been beaten and broken
thrown straight to the ground
slapped, punched and abused
received pound after pound
her crime was being born
implanted into a cold world
harsh, uncaring and spiteful,
standing back as her life unfurled
shes done nothing but hurt
never known love as she should
and now can she ever love back?
how is it she ever could?
at eight she'd been raped
violated by her very own dad
sharply he pushed and thrust
while she screamed like mad
the neighbors would've heard
they would've had to know
instead they just turned up
the volume on their tv shows
and when he was done
and it had gone to his head
she was left lying there
bleeding and weeping on the bed
oh, and thats months not years,
such cruel insanity;
she wasn't even one year old
and they'd stolen her virginity.
move forward two years
the girls now aged three
brown curly hair, a freckled face,
she looks so careless and free
but she's scared, frightened
running from boys outside.
mum refuses to comfort tears
as the girl panics on the inside.
now lets see her at five
the girls just started school
trying to excuse the bruises
she feels like such a fool
so she just pulls down her skirt
to cover the marks on her thighs
the marks aren't just there
the scars are deep in her eyes
its now birthday number eleven
and shes suffered ten plus years.
cracked, jaded and damaged
plagued by violence and fears
at her party with her few friends
full of ribbons and cake
smiles and cheers float around
hollow and completely fake
her fathers smoking a joint
sitting in a corner getting high
mums lying on the ground drunk
passed out looking at the sky
they don't notice her as she walks to her dad
takes his joint and takes a big puff
the ground slowly begins to detach
as she takes huff after big huff
in less than twelve short months
she'll have slept with her first boy
who is not her father or forcing her,
someone not using her as a toy
she hungered for love so real
she opened her self so free
asking to be taken and touched
hoping it will bring real glee
at thirteen shes giving birth to a babe
screaming, in a gown in maternity alone
the kid could be her young lovers
or its her fathers own
Author notes
as a youth worker i have come across countless stories of child abuse as told by the children themselves. i've finally decided to put it all in a poem. whilst i\this didn't all happen to on story, all of the events are true to someone.
this is nowhere near complete yet, and i'm asking for critical comments and suggestions and id love for people to attempt to rework lines.
looking forward to hearing from ya!
Mathew
Comments
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I have written poems kind of like this, but they are from my own past, not others' pasts. I can't really think of anything I'd suggest you change, it's pretty good the way it is.
In my opinion sexual abuse is the worst kind, because is leaves the biggest emotional scars. Sometimes, like in the case of your story, the abused tries to make peace with the hurts by prostitution or something similar. I never went so far as to do that, but that is because I was brought up with VERY strict abstanance teachings. Anyways, I am off topic... nice poem.
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Mate, There are many people here that have suffered at the hands of people you speak of. My father was the best and never laid a hand on us...I grew up in a home where all the abuse acurred to us all. Mostly physically and it will never be forgotten. These sexually abused children are never given the hand in society that they need and that really stinks, as everyone is all talk but do nothing. You sound like a wonderful person with a beautiful heart and i thank you for sharing this piece with us. I certainly had a tear fall as i read this. I unfortunately cannot criticise or give you anyhting to improve on this as your experience is in these words and they should not be changed. I will be looking forward to the continuation.
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