Thanks You Don't Deserve

Thu, 12/21/2017 - 16:41 -- bbecraf

You slithered in one night

when I was four

I watched You creep inside

and shut the door

I remember the weight -

your hips on mine

I tried to run, or yell,

or even hide.

 

There was no escaping

it was my fate,

the only option left

was simply . . . wait.

Wait for You to stop or

see your mistake;

mistook me for a slab

of virgin meat.

 

I know that what You did

to me was wrong,

it's played on repeat in

my mind so long.

I was only four, I was

naive and scared

There was no way I was

at all prepared.

 

But, thank You. You showed me

that I am more,

more than property or

a piece of game,

I am a nice girl and

I have a name.

You can call me strong,

a real fighter.

 

They can all call me a

survivor, for

I lived through all Your vio-

lent attacks and

learned to keep myself and

mind in tact. For

I am alive, and well

but you're not, dad, ...

hell. 

 

 

 

 

 

   

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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