- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Stollen Innocense
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You stole me my dignity, erased my identity
All I wanted was for you to care for me
Gave me nothing but brutality and hostility
Showed me no mercy, no shred of decency
Broke my bones with impunity
Caring not for my innocence
Preyed upon my brittle vulnerability
Your hunger taking precedence
Mercilessly enjoying the pain of my fragility
My future destroyed by vicious consequence
Left me bleeding life blood fading
You took everything, shed not a single tear
Left me nothing but a vacant empty Shell
left me trembling, crippled by paralysing fear
My bedroom nothing but a prison cell
Left feeling nothing insignificant inferior
You were supposed to offer me love and understanding
Your filthy smell of cigarette smoke and Speights
Showed the world your penchant for perjuring
Filled me with loathing sweltering hate
Taught me the meaning of suffering
The stench stays with me, your sweat soaked singlet
I had hopes and dreams, you stole them all
All I wanted was love and cuddles, not your dirty cigarette
Bruises hidden from the prying eyes that call
You gave me many things, bruises, broken bones internal stitches
Left me bleeding
cursed my name, called me your bitch
Condemned me to a life of perpetual cleaning
Yeah burn in hell your infected body fuel rich
Yeah fuck you
- COMMENTS
CARLVP4 months agoFive stars not only because it is so well written but because it conjures up memories from the backroads of my mind. The very first memory of my life. Oh, a lifetime trying, hoping to illicit a more pleasant one. Being pinned against the steps to my cold uninsulated attic where I was relegated to sleep and beaten mercilessly.
So many nights I lay awake in the cold below zero night huddled under covers watching the white frozen moisture spot from my breath grow above me on the bare roof boards. Listening to Sons of The Pioneers sing on the headphones of the radio I built from parts scrounged from the town dump. Tuned to KOMA in Oklahoma a clear Chanel station over a thousand miles away. A more pleasant first memory remains blowing in the wind.
Justplainjeff5 months agoMy wife actually liked this more than I did, and I really liked it. In her career as a clinical social worker, she's dealt with survivors like your heroine. Great writing. 5 * is too little.
