My Life with My Abuser

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  • Childhood

    My Life with My Abuser

    Here I am here I sit,
    Ready to quit.
    Do not know what to do.
    Do not know what to say.
    There is always something in my way.
    My nightmare has risen again.
    Don't know where to begin.
    My daughter is 15, so was I.
    When I looked in the window and,
    Saw his eye, terrified was I.
    To just be standing there like I was.
    Did not matter if I moved,
    He would see me anywhere.
    Every night, when I go to my room,
    He is there, looking in my window.
    No place to hide, no place to go.
    I am just there, for the show.
    Why is this happening to me.
    Again and again I see,
    This man, peeping at me.
    When will it end,
    I need to mend.

    By, Terri L. Hessong

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    spbsdude commented on My Life with My Abuser

    07-14-2009

    Who is the man? Someone you know? Or a stranger? A nice poem, but it leaves me wanting more details, maybe more than you care to give. We all need to mend from traumas from our past. Sometimes it helps to have a listening ear. and maybe your poetry is a cry for help to be able to mend. Best of luck to you in this process. And keep wrting, keep communicating your angst.

    Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.

    Plato (BC 427-BC 347) Greek philosopher.

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