RSS

Tag Archives: TW: child abuse

Dress

She used to wear a dress
                And her dolls watched as she danced
                                And the sun smiled upon her, and her light was bright
People would come and go
                And tell her she was pretty
But HE stayed
                Told her she was pretty too
                                Wanted to show her just how much
HE liked the way her dress was easy
                HE could go in and out
                                Unseen
                                                Not even her dolls watched
But she could feel it ALL
                She could feel her light go out
                                Every time she wore a dress
 
Then HE turned into SHE
 
SHE saw her
                Small and scared
                                And told her she could help
SHE held her in the dark
                Told her not to tell
But she could still feel it ALL
                She lost her light there in the dark
                                And began to disappear
Then days turned into months, and months turned into years
 
She didn’t own a dress
                And never slept in the dark
She learned to live without having to feel anything
                Until
She met the one who turned her light back on
                The one who told her it was ok to be pretty
                                The one who held her hand when things turned black
And with this love, her light began to shine again
                But
She was still afraid of the dark and never wore a dress
             But
She was still afraid of the dark and never wore a dress
Advertisements
 
1 Comment

Posted by on May 2, 2013 in Her stories

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Grandfather

To My Dead Grandfather,
 
I used to wish I could have met you
Dreamed of you reading me bedtime stories and of my potential love for you
After I found out the truth all I have dreamed about is my regret your
Death wasn’t torturous enough to suit your crimes
Physical damage will not satisfy my need 
Piss on your soul; mutilate the fibers of the cross-stitch that
Holds your two-face together
 
I dreamed I could have been there and watched you
Die.
And I wanted to be the one to do it.
To have killed you.
Slowly, carefully, methodically with a distinct purpose in causing you as much harm as possible
I would carve out your half-heart while it’s still beating 
I would endure your screams just for the pleasure of watching you cry
I would tune them out because your tears make me smile
They are payment in the form of droplets of water pouring from you eyes
 
God made hell with scum like you in mind
The Devil was too merciful; letting you die
Alone on the side of the highway
Letting your body decompose until the stench forced someone call someone to dispose of your rotting corpse
Your unclaimed body still sitting in the morgue
Terrorized at night, your daughters had nowhere to run or hide
Tears tattooed beneath their eyes, trailing down their cheeks ending in a haunted stream behind them
 
2 Comments

Posted by on February 6, 2013 in Her stories

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,