The 5 year old
The 5 year old
I have no memory of before
Only stains remain since that fateful date
The day you stole my childhood
Nothing was to be the same
I, 5 years small baby girl
Your decision to touch me by force or fear
You were the raider of innocence.
The sanctuary of the bedroom
Replaced with tears, fear, disbelief and dread
Hear your feet climbing the stairs,
Opening the door walking towards my bed
I held my breath, wishing I was asleep and thinking.. Not again,
Only to be scared wide awake
As you acted out your sick desire
I screamed for mom as loud as I could.. but I can’t !!!
Only silence was to be …
So many family near
So near to be saved
From the beast within my room
My world collapsed in so many ways..
The fear will never be forgotten
Your touch like a cold claw,
Tearing at my clothes as silence and horror took me
Praying the invasion will be quick
What to say?
How to explain?
Thinking Can I tell mom but when? What she will do if she knows.
I was trapped until the day you flew the nest
I was at last free to rest
But it didn’t end there
Too simple an ending I would wish
Some hurt never recover
Some cuts too deep to heal
Memories never forgotten
I hid behind a mask for years to come.
suddenly, I became mature I had to be to hide the pain and shame
Too many what happen in my life, Minds try to forget, bury, and conceal
Passing of years ease guilt and shame,
Until one day the world implodes
To the memory of the frightened girl
The love for my mum I would not see her hurt
To allow such pain and sadness on a soul already heavy
I have asked myself so many times
Why ? Why? Why me?
I will never know or comprehend the vile act you did bestow
Too late for excuses, too late for sorrows
This is your guilt, your secret, your shame.
I will tell my story to those that ought to know
To explain my disconnect, moods, behavior it may help
To some, it will bring upset and asking of questions
For the survivor, there is always more
For you, your fair share is on its way.
So, I am where I am
A survivor, a silent statistic
But I am no longer that scared frightened child.
Revenge nor forgiveness are not for me
There are innocents here I am aware
But my voice will be heard
So my baby girl, women, baby boy, brother, and Man it is up to you,
Unlike me, you have a choice.