These painful memories are true and very intense to pen as well as conceive. It has taken numerous years to heal to the point that I can apply the misery and anguish onto paper. Salty tears flow as I sit reliving my corrupt past so others understand they do not cry alone.
Time has come for others to comprehend the way children can be tarnished. They sense the whole world will mutilate them without objecting. The truth in some of my writings could escape some of the readers as others recognize they misery. There can be no misunderstanding that a child that has been loved this way suffers the rest of their life.The torture they feel is in every breath that they take. Different smells throughout their lives will bring back horrid memories.
Shame of being a obscene little girl stayed with me for many years.I could tell no one why I cry alone in my room.A once soft bed led me into the darkness and horror of the night.Fears born because a sick person infected me in their demoralized ways.
Wanting for death when the pain became overpowering. Laying in the torture of my mind I knew I was the only one that could save others from the "Devil's worker." If I could save a children from the demanding hands in the night, I would be protecting them from the agony.
Please, no tears for me but save them for the child you may recognize as being loved in the name of evil. Listen for a second, do you hear a child yelling out for you to rescue them? To help terminate the pain they inhabit day after day. They can find no way to abolish the barbaric hands that grasp and recover them in the darkness. The youngester cowards in their contaminated bed. The scared soul of a wounded child lay atop the tousled bed. The memories flow like the swiftness of a rapid river after a summers storm, reaching up to pull them under.The child did not ask to be used or defiled just so another could savor pleasure.
In the light of day and the dark of night the hands grip the childs mind.Tears flow unseen by others but always heard by the crying wounded.We learn it is better to cry discretely in the dark. To have another ask " Why do you cry?" is this what grownups mean when they say silence is golden?
What was once a great gift from God, now lives in the hands of something evil. Their door has become the gateway for evil to penetrate so as to take it's pleasures. A soft kiss or gentle embrace from a mother or father could instantaneously tell the child they will feel pain. As time hastens on, determining the word love will bring hatred to all that speak of it. The hurt they have learned to associate with affection turn them into callous adults.Genuine love may never survive the world of the wounded child.
When you read my work you will notice a small statement about how the writing came about and my different moods show in my words.
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