Abuse
The wordsI read
stung and yet healed,
opening doors thought forever closed,
allowing memories once buried to surface again,
hows a child to speak,
when they dont know its wrong till the end? ..
some survive, others dont,
in anger and fury
things all become
the whisper of a ghost..
the stinging reminder
of what should never have been,
if only we had remembered
the original sin...
now in the weeds
of memories lie,
a broken spirit,
never allowed to die,
a reminder of yesterdays
blood and bruises,
and the desire to pull others from
such destructive uses ...
such a waste of love and life,
the tears, the pains,
never totally healed,
but permantly scarred..
reaching out with words unspoken..
never getting out, alway remaining,
fear? anger? lack of knowing? timing?
why do those abused stay?
In the hopes things will change?
In the want to save another
at the lost of their own soul?
Maybe the fear keeps them there?
Let face it ..
Society has no real safe place for them?
just like the rest of Societies Outcasts,
a temporary fix will do just fine
as long as they can go home
to dinner and wine,
afterall, its just one life... they think..
and its not mine ..
10-10-06
~*~ Pixie ~*~
tragically, a problem is never seen till its to late,
and help is never just a call away,
you get refered to number after number,
never a person to hear you scream for help,
never after hours *God forbid* that abuse happens then.
Its more common today than others acknowledge,
"sweep it under the rug" .. its not happening here...
"turn the other way..." its not our affair ...
then you open the paper and see the same person
from the day before.. dead .... "but its not our affair" ...
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