LOST INNOCENSE *RATED R*

I wonder... why me?
Why did I get the bad childhood?
How come I can no longer trust anyone?
The answer is simple...
It's all because of my past
I still feel his touch
It disgust me
I scrub my body till I'm bleeding
Trying to remove the feeling of HIM
I was too young to know what happened was wrong
He told me that it was ok
I believed him
He told me to please him
I did what I was told
I lay in bed and cry at the horrid flash backs
My family never looked at me the same after my confession
No matter who it is my body will be on high alert and tense when a man is near me
In the mirror I'll stare at it with empty eyes and my mind screams at me in disgust
Screaming out " You dirty, filthy, worthless, good as dead, cheap, ugly, slut of a whore!" The worst part is...I believe that is the truth That I'm all of that and nothing more He caused my pain The thought of him causes me to shiver in disgust I hate the fact that I don't hate him.... at all Forgive and never forget is my motto I forgave him along time ago but I never forgave myself I hate myself I let him violate me without a fight Yet I was too young to know that it wasn't right What isn't right is that he not only took... My childhood My innocence My pride My dignity He overall took me...

  My life has never been the easiest life to live. My smiles cover my true pain. If you asked people what I’m like they would say caring, fun, shy, quiet, etc. Sometimes I write dark, intense poems and people look at me like ‘She never writes anything happy and upbeat mostly dark, depressing stuff’. How the hell am I suppose to write something happy and upbeat when I’m not happy but depressed.

  My father is an abusive man. My mother is a loving woman. Watching your mother be broken down emotionally and mentally is something no child should ever go through. I grew up in a hostile environment. My father would hurt me not with kicks or slaps. No he hurt me with words that broke me. I’ve been abused and damaged.

To be honest I can’t even remember how all the sexual abuse started. Being put through so many traumas caused my mind to automatically store the horrid events. If you’re thinking my father harmed me like this, then you’re wrong. The man that violated me was my own uncle. He made me perform sexual favors for him. I was forced to give him oral sex or hand jobs but he mostly made me give him oral.

 He wanted me to please him. I was scared. I was only five or six. He was only 12 or 13 at the time. He scarred me for life. At the time I didn’t know that it was wrong. He ask me to do it and I did it. The worst part is that afterwards he would smile and give me a treat like candy. The times I remembered saying no and that I didn’t want to do it anymore he kept saying ‘please for me, I’ll give you candy’. And I did want he wanted. He would sometimes touch my chest area.

If you asked ‘did he ever touch you’, I would honestly not be able to tell you.

My memory is so distant; automatically my mind blocks me out if I try and remember and I beat myself up for it. There was a time he almost raped me and what scares me the most is that I don’t know if he ever took the one thing I think I have left…my virginity. He was naked trying to take me from behind. He said to pull my shorts down, I pulled them down. He then told me to pull my panties down, but I said no.

 Then his hands went to my waist and bam my mind shuts the memory off like someone pulling the plug.

I never said a thing because he told me not to. I know why I never said a thing. I felt ashamed, dirty, and like I would be in trouble because I knew what we were doing was wrong. One day I don’t know where I got the voice to tell my mother but I did. We were pulling up in our driveway and I told her that my uncle made me do things to him sexually showing her with my little hands. She started to cry and broke down.

Tears escaped my eyes.

Crying because I felt dirty and that I made her disappointed in me for doing something so bad. She told my father. My parents confronted my uncle. I was so scared because I feared that he would be angered with me. From then on neither of us was ever allowed in the same room alone. The abuse didn’t stop till he got to high school, I believe.