Steep
stairs down into hell.
Blue-striped
mattress, your prison cell,
Submerged
in the dark, drowning in your fears,
Glacially
cold and seared by your tears.
Bloody
nose crusts over under the rafters;
A
million miles from a soothing hand—
Too
young to understand.
The
world cannot hear your hopeless cries,
As
your caretaker dangles your freedom as a prize;
He
holds you;
Defines
you;
Reminds
you,
Three
days now—
No
good, worthless, SICK.
“NO,
Daddy!”
He
brings you a red rose as an apology.
Say
what he wants and you are free.
Broken
like a toy, you finally agree—
Innocence
is gone; truth, an irrelevancy.
Nine
years old and your future is planned,
A
million miles from a soothing hand—
You’ll
never be able to understand.
Cement
a smile on your face as you are freed
Ascend
into a life that used to be.
Secretly
scarred.
Psychologically
marred.
Invisible
injuries.
Never
good enough to please.
Damaged
for the rest of your life.
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