STORIES I CANNOT TELL MYSELF
When I was growing up,
Mom told me I can be anything
I guess it was all tales by moonlight
Mother can you hear me? You deceived me
My first experience could have been
Yesyesyes, moremoremore
Alas, it was nonono, stopstopstop
Woken from the stream of sleep
I was soon endangered in a proximate trouble
I quickly resorted to voice alarm,
Realized I was evenly suffocated
In frenzied screaming, I ran my whole range
Only to be dis-empowered
As my attacker tore through my unseen pudenda
An untold demonstration at the evil banquet
He relayed violently across my privates
His mystic pace paralyzes my consciousness
As my strength dried up like a potsherd
My heart pounded hard and fast
My impulses turned purple
And my troubled face reddened in seconds
All I can muster is naught
My failing powerlessness and draining energy
I had to surrender
It was a silence massacre
Like Ox going to the slaughter
Like a stag caught in a trap
A year gone but the memories still lingers
Fresh in my head like it did happened yesterday
I have never woken from this trauma
It leaves me residual damage every morning
A feeling of fright, anger, shame all at once
Months past, days clicked
Yet the pain does not stop
So Lucifer destroyed the temple,
And what is left of the crucible!
The stigma corners every where
A stigma that cannot be bleached away
The sneers and jeers- they never go away
Forever frightened
Delta of deep cuts across my soul
Wounds time cannot heal
Smitten and stricken
Who understands my pain?
Could anyone understand?
Would they ever know?
They never went there
Who cares anyway?
I called 911, it was 000 bang!
I ran across the street, looking for help. They call me crazy
I told my friend, she said it was a dream
I spoke to the priest, he said I need baptism
I reported to the arms men, I was put under investigation
Who is going to ever believe my story?
Stories I cannot tell myself
Again, in tears of discord
She whispered to herself
Who do I tell, who can I speak with?
I think I am crazy, who will believe my story?
I cry daily at the market square, who can feel my pain?
Who will believe a story I found it hard to believe myself
Stories I cannot tell myself either
Let age runs far deep to my rescue
And ruin me before I end myself
I am tired of this world
Death is no vial for the wounded soul
I have died countless time over
I am just vapor waiting to part with this world
Really! Stories I cannot tell myself
All I am is done
All I have is gone
Same is same
At that moment, I wished he could just kill me
I wouldn’t have to endure this lifetime pain
For sure I cannot change history,
Seems I’ll never walk past it
Stories I cannot tell myself either
Read more on http://ablethoughts.me/
No comments:
Post a Comment