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ODE TO AN ABUSER
He cut me
Not with a knife, but with his words.
And they, sharper that a tiger's tooth,
Rip through that once proud shield.
And left me bleeding on the floor.
He burned me.
Not with fire, but with the flame.
Of his disdain as the ashes of my once
Strong dignity fluttered to the ground.
And flew away on the winds of disillusion.
He raped me.
Not with his sword, but with his love.
And I cringed and fought, screamed,
And caved, my wounds festering.
Never being allowed to heal.
Then.
Once done with me, he sought another.
Once completed with her one more woman he found.
Tearing each of us down, leaving us whimpering,
Shivering, crying.
Rolling over us like a freight train
Laughing over our mangled remains.
Refusing us respect, hope, love,
Compassion.
For none of these survive long
When wanton destruction blocks the rays of
Hope. They cannot grow.
And--God, how hard the struggle.
To learn to walk again, to trust again.
To love again, to live again.
But walk I do. And live I must.
For to do anything less, would make a loser of me.
And he the winner.
Abuse kills. Neglect kills.
Long before the body dies.
And the stench permeates the rest of life.
From which out of this indignity grew.
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OUT DAMN SPOT
Out! Out! damn spot.
You've caused me more distress
than failure ever could.
Out! Out! damn spot.
On my conscious you weigh
heavily like a lead hat.
Out! Out! damn spot.
Though I have valiantly tried
to displace you, still you remain.
Out! Out! damn spot.
You hurt me, and I like a weakened
babe lie helpless on the floor.
Out! Out! damn spot.
Like a cloak of despair about
my shoulders you cling.
Out! Out! damn spot.
You taunt me, torture me, terrorize
and paralyze me.
Out! Out! damn spot.
but for you, I could be whole,
but for you I could fly.
So out, out, damn spot.
Upon my conscious you may lie,
but never on my soul.
Damned spot begone!
...aah sweet emancipation.
( Sometimes it is the wrongs which we can't forgive which haunt us)
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