Empowering survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse from around the globe, connecting and healing collectively through poetry.
#globalpoetrymovement
Recent Poems
A Kid Of Three
A Kid Of Three
The man was busy again, like an eight legged thing,
the better to clutch, in sickness and dying, in a
grimace, in a motion that tears down the world from east to west,
and stops only to refill what is spent in more horrid darkness
from inside his heart and mind. Until the man sees blood, he
is not fulfilled. Who the kid is doesn’t matter, not on any
account, not in particulars, not in general. And the kid got it,
but he could conclude nothing - three years of living is no
match for a monstrous touch. Cowards show up in lies and deceit,
and a kid of three knows something we don’t know.
G.Z. | Canada
This work was a no feeling work. My emotions were stuffed, buried. Written years after the abuse in stared at the page in stunned comprehension. I had lived this experience the words whispered to me. I had written hundreds, maybe thousands of poems, but never one directly dealing with the abuse. Afterwards I carried on. I must have carried on, a thousand miles from my healing.
MY RIGHTS
MY RIGHTS
I have every right to feel the pain of what I went through
I have every right to say I should not have gone through these experiences
I have every right to still feel the afflictions of what I endured for years
I have every right to say it was never my fault to begin with
I have every right to say I was placed in a toxic and abusive environment
I have every right to express fully that not everything happens for a reason
I have every right to say I could not learn from certain experiences because those experiences should not have been lessons to have learned from
To me, that just sounds condoning, neglectful and invalidating
What happened to me is real
What they did was not okay
I have every right to shed my tears
I have every right to sniffle and frown
To break into pieces
To hate and be angry
I owe myself the self-validation I never once received from my so-called family
I deserve to not want to forgive
To not be pressured or made to feel guilty for not wanting to forgive
I deserve to do what feels best for me
Even if it differentiates from other people's perceptions
It is not about anyone but me
I am fed up with listening to others but disregarding myself
I am tired of putting myself in convos where my experiences are belittled
I was gravely abused throughout childhood, and it has been affecting me to this day
This I will admit
This I will not be afraid to admit
This I will stop feeling shame for
My inner child deserves to be heard, believed, understood and acknowledged
I will be the one to continue giving her that
For what she battled, no one will ever understand
Except herself and her Originator
Plus, the very few people on planet Earth who actually care about the hard things the rest of humanity are too prideful to speak about
—the end 💔
s.renita | Canada
Suicide and silence
She slices her flesh to feel alive,
She feels useless until blood flows from her vains.
Her screams of anguish fall on unhearing ears.
Her pain will never be cured.
They try to know her pain but they never see the real pain,
Years of hurt fall from her eyes as she sleeps.
Her sobs unheard by society,
People see her smile when inside she is hallow.
There is one permant cure for her,
When she sees that pure black she will smile.
All the heartache of years ended by one slice too many.
People cry for they finally understand her pain.
Lying there lifeless she sleeps peacefully,
She now dreams of pure happiness.
Without second thought she doesn't appologise for her leaving,
For it brought her to rest.
Blood on the ground,
Smile apon her lips,
She embraced death with open arms.
Her heart lighter then its been in years.
She says don't cry for me for I am without pain,
Don't cry for me for I am now happy,
Don't cry for the life I left behind,
Don't cry for me.
Cry for the society that caused this.
Cry for the ones unnoticed.
Cry for the ones unheard.
Cry for the ones still in pain and crying every night.
This poem is for all the people out there that Hide behind fake smiles.
R. L. Brown | United States