Only 4 years old
Was not yet able to reach the kitchen sink.
Couldn't comb her hair.
Small chubby fingers
She was the most beautiful thing
Sang nursery rhymes very off tune
Skipped everywhere and had a smile so bright she'd light up a whole room.
Why can't a baby just be a baby.
Gruesome and hellishly her innocence and obliviousness was used to take advantage of her
It's a game, it's just a game come and let us play he said.
As her clothing were stripped off,
Bits of her soul did too
What it must be to look into the eyes of a pained child
Eye filled with love and trust,
Now filled with fear and paranoia
Lied to and hurt for years in silence
Scare to speak for the fear of her abusers violence.
Never will she trust again,
No where near this vile creature
But forever he lives in her mind.
YOU ARE READING
It's not your fault
PoetryYou were a victim, you trusted them and they betrayed you. You are a survivor and they don't deserve to be the reason you fail. Poems for the survivors
