the ways of the wicked,
toy with my life,
they held my heartbeat,
in their grasp –
deciding that it was not worth,
But! No! they did not stop there,
i gasped my first breath –
only to be thrust into a cauldron ;
mixed with love and hate
a torturous state,
to be pricked and peddled,
prodded down to utter erosion –
of spirit and mind
living did not seem so Alive –
peeled apart the shell of a being,
left to wander in dysmoprhic dreams,
allowed to walk amongst the living;
with a thumping heartbeat,
a staggering silhouette –
a lesser human being?
scraped of all hope,
leaving a body,
with no soul?
cast me deep into this world,
worst sort of punishment –
stripped me of any individuality,
you did not kill my breath, or heartbeat –
you crushed ALL identity!
AND for my amusement,
let me just say,
I AM still standing,
you could not,
nor ever thrash away
On a kind of serious note, I decided to share some of my abuse story on Zoe’s blog at Behind the Mask of Abuse. I am a bit nervous and anxious. I have shared bits and pieces on my personal blog, but when I pulled this particular part of my life together in one sitting it was overwhelming to say the least.
However, I am on my healing journey from my past. Part of that for me, is to share what I can about my abuse. This poem stems from multiple factors that happened in my life – the main nugget here is that I survived, I have a voice, and I am starting to understand my value as a person. That was stripped from me.
My hope is that my story will help others who have gone through such trauma and to help parents recognize if their teen is in an abusive relationship. As well as find help and know the best way to handle the situation.
I am thankful to Zoe for allowing me to share and for being so supportive. I want to add here too that she and Kira from MY PEN, MY SWORD have created an online community for artists. Go check it out and participate! wepoetsshowit.com