Lost in Endless

Lost in an endless void of sea,
That threatens to overpower me.
I search for reasons to survive,
And think, “Why do I stay alive?”

An endless struggle to be free,
To realize the visions of my dreams.
In slumber do the demons sleep,
Only to waken when I dream of thee.

Fear like an armor I must wear,
And walk carefully, as not to tear.
For when the armor wears away,
Fear seeps in my every day.

And with the golden haze’s flight,
The demons whisper in the night.
On silent feet they come to haunt,
With familiar wisdom, they do taunt.

Control dangles on slender thread,
Stretching slowing, I watch with dread.
It often breaks though I try in vain,
Then my soul in anguish cries in with pain.

written: August, 1989

I Can’t Sleep

I can’t sleep
Cause I’ve been thinking
I’m on a boat
And that boat, it is sinking
On an inky black sea
Under an inky black sky
There are no stars in that sky
I wonder why
No lights in the sky
No lights on the sea
But I can see it
See it clear
A huge black fin
From a huge black shape
With gleaming sharp white teeth
And his leery red grin
He knows he will get me
If the boat does sink
And I can’t stop the water
From drifting in
Waves of despair wash over me
Oh, why won’t she help me
Why don’t she care
Why does she let him
It’s too much to bear
So I drift in the water
And pretend he’s not there
If it’s too dark to see
Then it must not be happening
It’s all just a dream
But how can I dream
If I’m not sleeping

written: September, 1989

Life and Death

The line between life and death,
You must never cross, and yet.
Are we alive, merely to die,
Or do we die to come alive?

The truth not known until the end,
Has been sought by many men.
And countless hours spent on knees,
Praying to an unknown means.

Life ends we know in silent tomb.
Begins at birth, or in the womb?
Or in the grave with loved ones tears?
What man knows not, he always fears.

An endless struggle just to cope,
With endless puzzles and little hope.
To live, to love, to fight, to yearn,
These are the lessons we must learn.

And when the soul rises to the above,
To meet, we pray, with our Father’s love.
Without this golden dream, this vision,
Man is just a man without a mission.

Birth and death, these are the seasons,
To exist cannot be the only reason.
And when the time has come to part,
We find the strength deep in our heart.

written: October, 1989

Soul Will Fly Free

I feel bad
And I feel dirty
And I feel so ashamed.

But it wasn’t my fault
It wasn’t my deed
I cannot be blamed.

For what was done
Was done to me
And not by me, you see.

Until the truth
Is known by all
My soul cannot fly free.

It hurts so much
This ache inside
As though my heart is breaking.

You stole my soul
You stole my mind
And now my peace you’re taking.

You are here
Though not in body
Your spirit comes to haunt me.

I can see your face
I can feel your touch
I can hear your words, they taunt me.

I could never forget
I could never forgive
And I don’t know why I should try.

Those feelings of love
Those feelings of trust
Any feelings I had, well, they died.

In the dark is the fear
In the dark is the pain
In the dark are my small sounds of anguish.

But now there’s a light
Shining small but so bright
And the dark I am learning to vanquish.

And I hope and I pray
There will come a day
When my body and soul become one.

Then my heart will be free
To trust and to breathe
And my soul will fly free in the sun.

written: September, 1989

The Way it Was

Come here my precious little girl,
Come sit with me awhile.
Come here…a little closer,
And give me your sweet smile.

You’re Daddy’s little special girl,
He loves you, oh, so much.
What? What’s this I’m doing?
Well, Daddy likes to touch.

It shows how much I love you,
It shows how much I care.
You know you really like it,
When I touch you there.

There…now isn’t this nice,
They’ve left us here all alone.
Come on, let’s take this old thing off,
And show Daddy how much you’ve grown.

Slap! Hey, put your hands down,
You know that I just want to look.
I can see in your eyes what you want me to do,
Daddy can read you like a book.

Hey, I’ve got an idea,
We’ll take a bath, me and you.
I can wash you and you can wash me,
Oh, come on, you want to, I know that you do.

Now, remember, it’s our little secret,
You mustn’t tell a soul.
Or Daddy will not love you,
And they’ll make you go.

They’ll take you away and put you in jail,
Let me show you how it will be.
They’ll come and take you and lock you away,
Lock you away, throw away the key.

Oh, please let me out, I won’t tell,
I promise I won’t tell no one.
I’m afraid of the dark, I’m afraid of in here,
My soul cries for the sun.

There…now, don’t you fell better?
Come one, oh, don’t be so scared.
Daddy’s here, Daddy really loves you.
This is how Daddy shows he cares.

written: September, 1989

While I Die

Silent, furry padded feet
Walk the endless corridors
Of my mind

While I sleep

Sharp long claws scratch
The windowed surface
To my brain

While I dream

Glowing brightly in the dark
See clearly where I hide
In my fright

While I wait

Seeking out places I can’t prevent
Touching me softly
To my shame

While I cry

Flowing quietly down my face
Form endless pools
Of my fear

While I hate

Him for doing what he does
Her for knowing and not caring
Me for living

While I die

written: October, 1989

To Andrea, Age Eight

Maybe one day
When you ask me
Why I cry
Alone in the night
Maybe you think that
You want to know
The reasons for my fright
Maybe then I’ll tell you
Maybe you should know
But it isn’t very pretty
And it isn’t very nice
And you won’t want to know
The reasons I am feeling
So alone and so confused
So, maybe I should tell
So it doesn’t happen to you

You would think that
You could trust
The people that you love
The ones who ought
To care for you
And teach you all
The things that you
Should know
To help you grow-up
The right way
With everything intact
And the feelings that
You experience
Are only those of love
And trust and comfort
And all the things
That kids should feel
With nothing missing
Or misused

But instead your life’s
A jigsaw puzzle
That has all the pieces
The right size and shape
And the colors are
The right shade
But somehow that puzzle
Doesn’t fit together
The way that it should
No matter how hard you try
And somehow you know
That you’re the reason why
That’s where they put the blame
And it has to be true
Or else they wouldn’t say it
That’s what they tell you
And they are the ones
Who should know

So, darling
Theses things that I tell you
I just want you to know
That I’m trying my best
To make sure that you grow
In all the right places
Through all the right times
So that your life will be
So much better than mine
So, remember I love you
And I’ll always be there
To help you along
With all of your cares
And no matter what happens
Your life will be fair
So, even though
Sometimes I cry
I know I’m a good mother
‘Cause you love and trust me
That’s why.

written: October, 1989

In The Mirror

I look in the mirror
And what do I see?
A distorted reflection;
Image of a stranger
Staring back at me.

Who is this stranger?
It cannot be me.
It’s someone who’s learned
That life is a prison
She can never be free.

A clever mask covers
The feelings inside.
So that no one can touch her
No one can hurt her
She knows she must hide.

Only her eyes show the wisdom;
Sufferings of the past.
Only her soul understands
The yearning for peace
Freedom that will last.

Will she let anyone know her?
Can she trust you?
With the secrets of childhood
The cries of her youth.
She wishes she knew.

And maybe the child deep within her
Maybe then she can breathe.
Maybe then I can love her
And help her find peace.
Maybe then, she’ll be free.

written: October, 1989


Hey, it’s me!
Can you hear me?
I am trying to speak.
But you’ve never noticed,
You’ve made my voice weak.

You pushed me so far,
Deep inside that I hid.
So you wouldn’t remember,
All the things that he did.

Hey, it’s me!
Can you feel me?
I know that you know.
That I’m here deep inside,
And you can’t make me go.

You think you can hurt me,
Outside with the pain.
But when that pain fades,
Down inside’s jut the same.

Hey, it’s me!
Can you love me?
You never did that before.
All these years I’ve been kept,
Locked behind your heart’s door.

But now you can see me,
And the key’s in your hand.
Hey, it’s me, and I’m you,
I knew one day you’d understand.

written: October, 1989

If I Told

If I told you of my shame,
Would you think that I’m to blame?
Or would you know that I was innocent.

If I spoke of bad things that happened,
Would you think that I was bad?
Or would you know that I was only obedient.

If I told you my dark secrets,
Would you make me run and hide?
Or would you know I’ve come too close to hide again.

If I spoke of things he did,
Would you think they were deserved?
Or would you know that I had no choice.

If I told you the ways I’ve coped,
Would you think that I’m insane?
Or would you know that’s what I did to escape.

If I spoke of neglect and abuse,
Would you think that it was normal?
Or would you know why I grew up confused.

If I told you of my fears,
Would you think that it was my imagination?
Or would you know about the scared child inside.

If I spoke of childhood memories,
Would you think that they were lies?
Or would you know the reality I lived.

If I told you of my hate,
Would you tell me to forgive and forget?
Or would you know that it was justified.

If I spoke of not trusting or believing,
Would you think I was exaggerating?
Or would you know I had nothing to believe in.

If I told you the reasons that I hurt,
Would you use them to hurt me?
Or would you help me now to heal.

If I spoke of all these things,
Would you listens and understand?
Or would you turn away in disgust.

The past is all gone.
The deeds have been done.
There’s nothing left here but my pain.

If I share all my secrets?
And if you understood.
Maybe then I would feel I am sane.

written: November, 1989

Beef Stew

I hate beef stew. When I was a kid we would have it about once a week, or at least, twice every three weeks. It was a cheap meal because my mom would take a small package of beef cubes and mix then with a lot of carrots, potatoes and gravy. With biscuits, this was a great meal for a large family and everyone in my family loved it. I pretended for years to like beef stew just by eating the carrots and gravy. Mom would fill my bowl with lots of carrots because she thought I loved her beef stew. I don’t pretend to like it anymore and I never make it for my family.

It was a cold October day and I was fourteen years old, almost fifteen. My dad was in the Army and we lived off-base, so every month the whole family went shopping for groceries at the commissary; this month, everyone was going but me. Someone had to stay behind because of the beef stew. Dad had really great reasons why I was the one to stay behind. Neither of my two brothers Jimmy or Michael could stay, they were boys and boys couldn’t cook. My little sister Rosie was too small. Mom had to go shopping because she had the money and knew what to buy and my older sister Elizabeth had to drive. He didn’t feel like going, so that left me to watch the stew. I knew it wasn’t the only reason and I begged my mother to let me go with her, but she couldn’t understand that I had to go and I couldn’t tell her the real reason. But I know now that she knew and think that I knew it then, I just couldn’t come out and accuse her. I knew what was going to happen, it had happened before.

As soon as everyone left, I tried to hide in the cookshed. We lived way out in the country in a really nice house. But the kitchen didn’t have a stove for some reason. The stove and the washer and dryer were located in a small shed just off the kitchen. In order to reach it, you had to go out the kitchen door (which was just outside my Dad’s bedroom). He could see me from his window, out there trying to look like I was stirring the stew. Maybe I thought I could hide in the shed until everyone came back (three or four hours) or maybe, I thought if I stayed out there long enough he would forget. It wasn’t likely, but, I wished I could have run into the woods like had once before. (I had hid in the woods the month before with no clothes on, and then I climbed in bedroom window when the others had come home from shopping. My dad chased me through the woods with his gun, threatening to shoot me if I didn’t come out, but he couldn’t find me). But I couldn’t do that this month because of the beef stew. Even though it was cheap, it was still a slightly expensive item on our weekly menu, and if it had burned, I would have gotten into some serious trouble. I hate beef stew.

Eventually my dad got tired of waiting for me to come in on my own and called from his window. I dreaded going into the house, but I couldn’t find a reason to get out of it. When I looked into my dad’s room I could see him sitting on his bed. I knew this time was different from all the others because he didn’t have any clothes on. Usually it took at least an hour or so for him to coax me out of my clothes before he would take his off. After a few minutes a him touching me and groping me under my clothes, I said that I had to go out and check on the stew. This excuse worked about four times before my dad went out and turned the stove off. Every time I escaped to the cookshed, it felt like my legs got heavier and heavier on the way back to the house. On the last trip, it seemed like that short ten feet had turned into an endless journey, and I knew that I couldn’t escape from the pain and suffering that waited for me.

When my dad got back from turning the stove off, he joined me in the bed. He had told me when he left that I’d better be undressed and in bed waiting for him when he got back. He said that I was going to enjoy what was going to happen and that he could see in my eyes what I wanted him to do.

The moment he touched me, I could feel myself leaving my body. That’s the only way I can describe the feelings I experienced. Whenever my dad’s hands would touch my body, I could feel myself drifting away, like I wasn’t there anymore and some stranger’s body was lying there in my place. All the while he was touching me, he was telling me how much he loved me, this was how he showed his love and that there was nothing wrong with fathers sharing their love with their daughters, it was very natural. So I just laid there with silent tears running down my face and into my ears, until the tears clogged up my hearing somewhat and whatever he said after that became foggy and distorted. The only time my eyes glanced away from the shadows on the ceiling was when I felt this sharp pain like I was being torn apart.

I looked down to see my dad’s body moving up and down and even though I had read about rape in books, I couldn’t believe that it was happening to me. He had never done this before, just the kissing and the touching. Sex was supposed to be enjoyable, that’s what I had read, seen in the movies and what some of my friends had told me. But I didn’t fee anything except shame and disgust. His little grunts and moans sounded like an animal. His face looked just like an animal.

When it was over, I went into the bathroom and took a bath. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I just couldn’t seem to get his touch off of my body. Then I went to my room and took a nap. When my mother and everyone came home, we had dinner. I guess my dad went out and turned the beef stew back on because it was ready when they came home. All through dinner, I just sat there and pretended to eat. Everyone was still excited about shopping so they didn’t even notice how quiet I was. Then I went to my room to read and fell asleep with the light on.

I knew what had happened, he knew what had happened; we just pretended it didn’t. Eventually, I kind of put it at the back of my mind and didn’t think about it. After a while, it just faded into the background; always there, but never above the surface. He left me alone for a couple of weeks after that, but it soon started up again. The same games, played the same way, and there wasn’t anything I could do to change the rules. I hate beef stew.

Another day, another beef stew. But this time my brother’s dog had knocked the pot of stew off the stove and had started to eat it. My dad heard the noise from is window. So, he took his gun and shot the dog dead; in the cookshed. For as long as we lived in that house, you could see that huge stain on the floor by the stove. I hated to go in there. My mother tried for weeks to scrub the blood off of the floor, but couldn’t get it out. I could have told her you can’t wash blood from a wooden floor, it stains forever. Just like the small red smear I washed off my thigh and can’t seem to get off my soul since that cold October day.

written: November, 1989

Little Ones

So many memories dance in my mind
That one little moment is so hard to find.

So many dark secrets were kept and not spoken
‘Till the little heart wept and was broken.

So many dreams wished for that were shattered
‘Till the little child flinched and was battered.

So many times crying alone in the night
With little hands clenched tightly with fright.

So many feelings of guilt and of shame
‘Till little shoulders soon drooped with the blame.

So many lies by loved ones were told
‘Till the little eyes grew sad and so old.

So many hours spent praying for hope
‘Till the little soul died finding ways just to cope.

So many emotions were twisted and abused
‘Till the little girl grew up misled and confused.

So many bad promises she was forced to make
‘Till the little child felt her life a mistake.

So many grown-ups were children like me
When will the little ones in us be set free?

written: December, 1989


See that woman over there,
With the baby in her womb.
Even now she wishes,
That babe was in a tomb.

That was then. That was me.

See the little child just one,
With pretty curly blonde hair?
They left her and took off,
Abandoned in Grandma’s care.

That was then. That was me.

See the little girl who’s five,
There are monsters in her nights.
But no one ever listens,
They just turn off the lights.

That was then. That was me.

Seven, eight and nine,
What happened to that kid?
I wish I could remember
Just what those grown-ups did.

That was then. That was me.

See the girl, she’s barely twelve,
All alone she faces the shame.
It’s not his fault, she understands,
She knows just where to put the blame.

That was then. That was me.

See the girl, she’s just fifteen,
Isn’t that too young for suicide?
What could make her want to die?
What bad secrets does she hide?

That was then. That was me.

All grown-up, the child’s in the past,
But the adult still feels so confused.
Inside the pain and guilt still live,
Down inside, she still feels abused.

This is now. This is me.

The future looms, not far away,
Where all the blackness turns to gray.
And I will live free, not barely survive,
And I will be happy that I’m still alive.
That will be soon.
And I will be me.

written: February, 1990

You Can Mend

What can you do with a broken heart?

You can glue it together,
Piece by piece, bit by bit.
But you’ll find that the pieces,
Somehow just don’t fit.

What can you do with a soul ripped apart?

You could sew it together,
Small even stitches, nice and neat.
But you’ll find out at the edges,
It’s still just a little bit weak.

What can you do with shattered dreams?

You could sweep them all up,
And put them away in a safe place.
But one day when you need them, you’ll find
They’ve disappeared with trace.

What can you do with a battered mind?

You could smooth it all out,
Clean and polish it with care.
But you’ll find if you look closely,
All the bruises are still there.

How can you fix your broken life?

With Love’s special glue,
Some silver and gold ‘trust’ thread.
A broom held by angels,
And God’s cleansing tears.

You can find your way out of the darkness.

Out of the confusion, the pain and the fear,
And find a life with no sorrow.
Where you can find hope, love and dreams,
Where you won’t be afraid of tomorrow.

written: February, 1990

Existence in Gray

I hurt myself again.
I don’t know, sometimes it feels,
As if the pain will never end.

I can’t decide what hurts the most.
The pain I cause or the feeling,
Of being forever lost.

Within the hollowness inside.
A little child dwells,
Never at peace and forced to hide.

That child still cries.
As empty years pass quickly,
Buried beneath the lies.

In the dark, a silent scream.
I go to sleep each night and pray to God,
“Please, let me not dream”.

I struggle through a maze.
A thin shroud of fog about me,
I can’t see clearly through its haze.

I stumble, then I fall.
And through the tears I look and see,
Before me a giant wall.

That wall I start to climb.
Then, suddenly it’s now a tree,
And I’m left alone out on a limb.

And the limb begins to break.
As I fall, I want to scream but strangely,
I have no voice, I cannot speak.

Spinning wildly to the ground.
I cry and beg for mercy,
But help cannot be found.

Without a sound my body crashes.
And I realize that truth lies somewhere,
Between, dust to dust, ashes to ashes.

It is justice that I seek.
But it’s always been so that the strong,
Cannot inherit, only the meek.

Revenge is mind, says THE MAN.
But I know that true justice can only,
Be done with these two hands.

The pain I know will never go away.
But soon the darkness will begin to fade,
And the black I fear so much will turn to gray.

To exist with control is the plan.
So that when life tries to knock me down,
I will just sway, not fall, and I will stand.

written: March, 1990

The Real Me

I stand here alone, alone you can see.
But there are two people, two people in me.

Existing together, but forever apart.
One controls my mind, the other my heart.

One of them is blind, the other’s afraid to look.
The one who won’t speak, the other’s not listening.

One of them is hiding, the other’s afraid to come out.
The one who’s always lying, the other’s afraid of the truth.

One of them dying, the other’s not living.
The one barely exists, the other barely survives.

One of them still hopes, the other just copes.
The one who can’t feel, the other’s afraid to be touched.

One of them is so mad, the other is just angry.
The one who is so sad, the other’s not happy.

One of them silently screams, the other screams without sound.
The one who feels no good, the other just feels worthless.

One still feels so confused, the other still feels the abuse.
The one who never grew up, the other was never a child.

One of them is the real me, the other’s me in reality.
They seem so alike, but then again, they’re so different.

One wants forever to hide, the other longs to be free.
When the two become one, then I will become ME.

written: March, 1990

Silent Tears

Outside the light has turned to gray,
And soon the night must fall.
In my bed, I try to sleep,
My back against the wall.

Within the safety of my room,
A monster comes to call.
In the quiet of the sleeping house,
Footsteps softly echo down the hall.

Those footsteps stop when they reach my door,
I pray to God in vain.
I know what he wants when he comes at night,
He wants to give me pain.

Without a sound the doorknob turns,
And I know I must be insane.
‘Cause in my mind comes a crashing sound,
Like the roaring of a train.

And in my bed with my eyes closed tight,
And my hands clenched tight with fear.
He mustn’t know that I’m awake,
I can sense when he moves near.

A whispered sort of scurried noise,
Like the stirrings of a rat.
I can feel his hands up my legs,
Oh no, please don’t do that.

And then he pulls apart my thighs,
And sticks his fingers in.
I don’t know why he does these things,
But I know that it’s a sin.

Then he lies on top of me,
And sucks on my little breasts.
And he’s grunting like a big fat pig,
And I wonder, “who is this beast”?

Then he takes his tongue,
And kisses me down there.
And whispers, “Isn’t this so nice”.
As if I really cared.

Then he puts my hands upon it,
It feels like a big fat worm.
And works them back and forth,
‘Till I feel liquid, sticky warm.

Then he throws the blanket over me,
Trying to hide my shame.
And he leaves my lying there,
In the silence that he came.

And I’m left crying silent tears,
Afraid, no longer safe in my own bed.
And I no longer wonder anything,
I only wish that I was dead.

So I lie here, alone and scared,
And watch the sunlight fade.
And think, maybe, if I scream loud enough,
God would take me far away.

written: April, 1990

A Cry For Pain

The pain begins
A dull throbbing ache
Deep within my heart

Slowly growing
Engulfs my body
Like a giant tidal wave

Swelling in my brain
‘till it’s about to burst

Spinning wildly
My soul cries out in need
I am dying slowly inside

I can feel it gnawing
At my insides until

I’m gone
Eaten away at the soul
There’s no me, left in me

Steel blade
Glistens in the gray light
Outside is dark with night

Sweat breaks
Out on my brow and my mouth
So dry I can’t swallow

Eyes reflected
In the mirror are glazed
Dulled with resignation, knowledge

Touching my face
I see my hands connect with
The flesh, but feel nothing

No feelings
Are there, only pain
I know what I must do

Flesh tears
Pain echoes through
The hollowness inside

Relief slowly
Eases up my spine
It’s a message of peace

Bright red
Waterfall flows down
Like gentle summer rain

Again! Pain!

Again! Pain!

Pain until
Salty tears mingle
With the red flow

To wash
The hollow ache inside
And fill the emptiness

Then comfort
Washes over me and
I drift on a calm red sea

written: August, 1990

With Rainbow Butterflies

Through the darkness of my mind,
I grasp for sunshine
And I find…

A blood red sun burns brightly,
Against a cobalt blue of sky.
With silver puffs of gleaming clouds,
That float above the earth so high.

Below the sky, a hazy field of amber gray,
Where blazing flowers of violet grow.
With their soft petals alight with,
A shimmering shroud of snow.

A thin pink mist floats in from,
Across a crimson bay.
And those crimson waves just sparkle,
“Come dance with me” they seem to say.

And I stand alone,
In this field of amber gray.
While all about me flash,
With little wings so gay.

A thousand rainbow butterflies,
I see them, oh, so clearly.
And they come so close to me that,
I can almost touch them, nearly.

They flutter and dance around me,
With such a joyful mood.
And I am left with such a sadness,
Alone in my unwanted solitude.

From the silver clouds a shower fills,
The air with its fine gray tears.
That cleanses the dark reaches of my mind,
So full with pain and fears.

I walk down to the crimson shores,
And step across the golden sands.
And I finally feel at peace, alone,
In this, my fantasy land.

If only life could be this way,
And I could fly with butterflies.
And never have to find the answers,
To their once forgotten lies.

But, alas, here comes the darkness,
To chase away my world of hope.
And I am left alone with the reality,
To live, to me, means just to cope.

written: October, 1990

Let Me Keep You Safe

I know how hard it is to find,
Someone that you feel safe with.
So far everyone has let you down,
And you believe that trust is just a myth.

But you can let your guard down,
Don’t hide forever behind that wall.
It’s protected you well for all these years,
But now, it’s not where you belong.

You’ve walked enough in the shadows,
It’s time for you to walk in the sun.
One day someone will show you sunshine,
Please, let me be that someone.

Life has hurt you badly,
Of this, I can clearly see.
But I will never hurt you,
And I can help to set you free.

So take a little love from me,
And don’t worry, it won’t be too many.
‘Cause everyone needs someone sometimes,
It’s so hard to live without any.

I want to be that someone,
Who can teach you to love and to trust.
To show you that it can be safe,
Your heart, I would never crush.

I’d treat it oh, so gently,
Tenderly, I’d cradle it in my arms.
And I would never let you down,
Or cause you any harm.

For I believe you’re special,
And wise beyond your years.
So open up to me and let’s put to rest,
All of your doubts and fears.

So you can relax when you’re with me,
And you can just be yourself.
Don’t keep your spirit all locked up,
Sitting empty on a shelf.

And if you should ever need a friend,
Who will love you because you’re you.
Then take a little look my way,
For my heart will always stay true.

I love you.

written: November, 1990

For Laura

You are so young
It just breaks my heart
To ever think of you crying.

I know that it’s hard
And you struggle thru life
But you have to keep on just trying.

You can’t stop now
You can never give up
For to give up means that they’ll win.

And you can’t let that happen
‘Cause it wasn’t your fault
They are the ones who did sin.

It started so early
Before you could know exactly
What was right and what was wrong.

But now you know better
And you know who was to blame
Now you are the one who stands strong.

Life goes on
I know that you’ve heard
That you cannot live in the past

But it’s so hard
When those feelings come up
To remember that they won’t last.

How busy you keep
Yourself just won’t work
Eventually you have to stop and think.

And if you keep
Going on the way that you do
Your life will pass by “Quick as a wink”.

You’ve got to slow down
It’s getting much too hard
To keep all of your lives going on.

You’ve got to rest
Give yourself a break now
You’ve earned your place in the sun.

Take it from me
I really don’t know too much
But of this, I believe that I’m right.

Today you’re nineteen
And your life has just begun
But soon your day will fade away to night.

God, you’re so young
And I love you so much
And I want to do anything that I can.

But you’ll have to
Let me into your heart
If you want me to lend you a hand.

Please, don’t be afraid
I know that you’ve been hurt
And I know that life’s treated you rough.

You can trust me
To not let you down, please Laura
Come to me when you’ve had enough.

written: November, 1990

The No-Sense Poem

If it’s not right,
Then it has to be wrong.
And if it is weak,
Then it must be not strong.
If it’s quick, then it’s short,
But if it lingers, it’s long.
And if you stay alone,
Then you’ll never belong.

And if there’s no light,
Then the color is black.
And it it’s your wife,
It’s a roll in the sack.
But if it’s your kid,
Then it’s just an attack.
And once innocence’s lost,
Then it never comes back.

If there’s marks on the outside,
Then it’s plain old abuse.
But when they’re on the inside,
You’re left feeling confused.
And it it’s not new,
Then it must have been used.
And you can throw it away,
Whenever you chose.

Like an old used up car,
Or a burned out TV set.
And if you are crying,
Then it’s your face that is wet.
And if you owe something,
Then they call it a debt.
And why they took it from me,
Is just something; I’ll never get.

It it’s not living,
Then it must be dead.
And if you tell someone,
Then it’s all in your head.
And if you are hungry,
Then you haven’t been fed.
And it life is a struggle,
You’re not getting ahead.

And if you are angry,
Then you must be mad.
And if he’s your father,
Then you call him DAD.
And if he smiles when he talks,
Then you know you’ve been had.
And some call it an apartment,
While others call it a pad.

But if it’s a small room,
Then it’s a padded cell.
And if you are sick,
Then you know you’re not well.
When you stumble and look up,
Then you know that you fell.
And if it’s a secret,
Then you know you can’t tell.

And if it’s all that you have,
Then it’s something they take.
And if it’s your heart,
Then it’s something they break.
And if it’s not real,
Then it must be fake.
And if they say nothing happened,
Then you must have made a mistake.

If it’s brown and it’s green,
Then it must be a tree.
And if it flies thru the air,
It’s a bird who is free.
And if you’ve come this far,
Then it’s here you should be.
And if you look closely,
Then it’s me that you see.

If you don’t understand this,
Then you really must be dense.
‘Cause all these crazy lines,
To some people makes no sense.
But if it was your life,
Then it’s just not all past-tense.
And one day it’ll get better,
Of this, I can sense.

So don’t try to hide it,
Or keep it inside.
For to you, it did happen,
And it’s never a lie.
And if you lose something,
Than it’s okay that you cry.
But there’s never an answer,
So don’t ask me why.

When you share it with someone,
Then it’s love that you send.
And if you pick up the pieces,
Then you know you can mend.
So when the wind blows harshly,
You can sway and not bend.
And when something is finished,
Then it must be the end.

written: December, 1990

May the Angels Bless Me

Well, here it comes again,
That old familiar feeling.
Just like a special friend,
I’m ‘bout ready to climb the ceiling.
When will it go away, be ended?
When will my broken soul be mended?

I know when I first open my eyes,
In the morning, the start of day.
Some days I just can’t face the lies,
Please God, I pray, take me far away.
I can’t handle all of my responsibilities.
It’s all just one step beyond my capabilities.

The whole day is full of sadness,
Just like when someone’s died.
And of life I can find no gladness,
‘Cause that someone’s me inside.
And my heart feel like it’s breaking.
I don’t know how much I can keep on taking.

Battered and weary, I drift through the day,
Where every little bump causes great pain.
No kind of medicine can make it fade,
And I feel as if I am going insane.
How many times must I fall and pick myself up?
Before I finally just lie down and give up?

The day has ended and I’m left alone,
With the memories that haunt me from the past.
Restless and weak, I pace the floors of my home,
Hoping against hope that the pain won’t last.
What can I give to the little one inside?
How can I tell her she no longer must hide?

Exhausted my body finally lies down to rest,
But in my mind the cyclone of feeling still rush.
A dreamless sleep may the angels to me bless,
And to past monsters may they give a forceful push.
No angels came to protect that little one who was me.
And if they don’t come soon, my soul will never be free.

written: December, 1990

A Never-Ending Ache

Insatiable is how I would describe,
This never-ending craving deep inside.

Within my soul lies a terrible seed,
As it grown I am filled with an aching need.

To what, I cannot even answer how or why,
And all I can do is just sit and cry.

I pace the floor ‘till my legs start to shake,
But that hollowness grows and my soul begins to ache.

Every day I try to find a new way to cope,
And every time I am left with so little hope.

I try to fill-up that empty space with food,
I eat and eat ‘till I’m sick, but that does no good.

So then I try to drown it with alcohol,
I drink and I drink, but I feel nothing at all.

I thought getting high would be a solution,
But even though I floated, it was just an illusion.

I try to use sex as a cure, a release,
But with man or machine, it’s just all so useless.

I try to write, I try to read, I even try to sleep,
But that feeling wouldn’t go away, it was mine to keep.

So, finally when the pain was too heavy a load,
And my brain felt like it was going to explode.

I turned to an old familiar friend – by blade,
And as the redness grew, the pain did fade.

And for a few moments the pain on the outside,
Over-rides the pain felt deep on the inside.

There’s a void in my being that nothing can fill,
And no matter what or how, perhaps nothing ever will.

written: January, 1991

Have I Been Cast Away

I bow my head and pray to God,
And then I wonder why.
He never listened to me before,
And he ignored me while I cried.

I think of all that Jesus did,
The miracles…the fish.
But for that little battered child,
He granted not one small wish.

He turned his back on me,
Just when I needed him most.
And cast me out into the wilderness,
Alone, confused and lost.

You never heard my cries, oh Lord,
And you let those grown-ups hurt me.
Why didn’t you stop them,
How could you let that little heart bleed?

Some children die from sickness, disease,
And some grow up and live ‘till they’re old.
Why did you let me suffer so much,
What did I do to make you so cold?

But I guess I haven’t learned a thing,
‘Cause to you, I still try to pray.
Are you listening now to me, God,
Or has my soul been cast away?

written: January, 1991

When I was Five

Hi. My name is Patty. I am five years-old and I’m really excited because it’s Christmas and maybe if we’re very good and we listen to Daddy and be very quiet and let Mommy take a nap, then maybe after Christmas, Santa will bring us a new baby brother or sister. I hope it’s a sister, ‘cause I’ve already got two brothers and they’re not much fun. I’ve only got one sister and a baby sister would be just like my new baby-doll I got for Christmas, but a lot more fun. And Mommy says that I can help her take care of the new baby!

I really hope it’s a girl, ‘cause we had a baby boy last time, but he died. Daddy got mad and Mommy cried and then she went away to the hospital and then the baby boy died. Daddy got really sad and said he was sorry and baked Mommy a cherry cake and put it up high on top of the dish dresser and we weren’t allowed to eat it until Mommy came home. I was only three then, but remember how pretty the cake was and when Mommy came home from the hospital, we were all so happy, except that we were all sad because the baby died. They named the dead baby Raymond Charles and I miss him so much even though I never met him. Maybe one day I will meet him in heaven, if God lets us. Well, I hope that this baby doesn’t die and I hope it’s a little sister ‘cause I always wanted one of those.

I’m happy because it’s Christmas and we’re going to have a new baby soon and everyone is here to celebrate and my Uncle Steve is here. He’s not really my uncle, but Aunt Virginia and Uncle, I don’t remember his name, (Steve’s Daddy and Mommy) are going to be the new baby’s godparents and pray to God that the new baby is okay and everything. Aunt Virginia has a lot of kids, Steve’s my favorite boy and Juanita, she’s nine and my favorite girl. I don’t like Vincent, he’s the oldest and really old, about nineteen or twenty or older. He scares me a little and is always looking at me funny.

Steve is nice though. I really like him a lot and he likes me. Sometimes when my Mommy and Daddy go out, Steve baby-sits us. He is really funny. He makes us peel grapes for him and then we feed them to him and we get him pillows for his head and fetch him sodas and cakes. He’s really goofy! He likes all of kids, Jimmy, La-la, Mikey and me but he likes me the most. I know because he told me so. Sometimes when I sit on his lap he calls me his girlfriend and he bites me on my nose, see right here, and I laugh. I know I’m not really his girlfriend because he’s so old, about seventeen or eighteen. My Mommy says he’s too old for me, but Steve says that he’ll wait for me to grow up and then we’ll be boyfriend and girlfriend for real. Mommy laughs when he calls me his sweetheart. Daddy does too. I think he’s really funny.

Now I am Five and a Half

Hi. My name is Patty and I’m five and a half now and we have a new baby girl. She’s so pretty and so sweet and we named her Rosie. I love her a lot and sometimes Mommy lets me rock her in the rocking chair and give her a bottle. Everyone is so happy that we have a new baby and we have a new house too. I got to watch Rosie when we were packing and didn’t have to do anything else. That was the best part.

The only thing I don’t like is when I spend the night at my Aunt Virginia’s house. I used to like it the first couple of times, but now I don’t like it anymore. She has monsters in her house and when I try to tell Mommy and Daddy about the monsters they just laugh and say that I’m being silly. I know there are monsters there because at night when it’s so dark you can’t see anything down the hallway but I can hear the monsters tip-toeing soft, soft, soft down the hallway. I always wet the bed now when I spend the night. All the other kids make fun of me and call me smelly pants, but Aunt Virginia is nice and holds me in her arms and rocks me and sings lullabies to me and makes me watery oatmeal, the kind I like the best. Mommy and Daddy got mad at me for wetting the bed and say that I’m too big, almost six years-old and too old to be acting like a baby and scared of the dark. I don’t care. I hate them all. I wish that I didn’t have to spend the night there anymore.

Daddy got really mad at me today and spanked me really hard and now I can’t spend the night at Aunt Virginia’s anymore ‘cause I set fire to the garbage in the big can outside. I really didn’t mean to set the garbage on fire, I just wanted to burn my panties ‘cause when I woke up this morning, I had peed the bed and that didn’t bother me too much ‘cause I did that before and no one spanked me. But this morning it was really strange ‘cause when I went to the bathroom, there was blood on my panties and I got really scared ‘cause I know that the monsters had gotten me and no one believed the monsters were real and I would get into a lot of trouble, so I burned my panties so no one would ever know. I know that it was real bad to set fire in the trash can and I could’ve se the house on fire and hurt everyone. But even though Daddy spanked me really hard, I didn’t tell anyone about the panties and now I can’t spend the night there. I don’t care!

Almost Six

Hi. My name is Patty and I’m almost six and really glad that we’re moving. Far, far away and I won’t have to see my Uncle Steve anymore. I hate him and I think that he’s the monster that used to live at Aunt Virginia’s house whenever I used to spend the night. He really stinks and I never want to see him again. Mommy says that I’m being silly and why do I hate my Uncle Steve. Go on, Patty, give him a hug, he doesn’t know why you don’t like him anymore and what’s wrong with you, you’re going to hurt his feelings.

I’m too afraid to tell anyone what happened, I really don’t understand and I’m so scared but I’ll tell you.

One time when my Mommy and Daddy went out, my Uncle Steve came to baby-sit us. It was so fun and we had a really great time peeling him grapes and watching TV and staying up really late. Everyone was asleep and I had just gotten up to go to the bathroom and gotten back into bed when Steve came into the room. I was really quiet ‘cause I didn’t want to get into trouble for being awake when everyone else was asleep so I pretended to be asleep. I heard Steve whisper to see if anyone was awake and when no one answered he came over to my bed. He sat down on the end of the bed and whispered, are you awake sweetheart? I didn’t answer ‘cause I wanted him to think I was sleeping and then he would go into the other room and wait for Mommy and Daddy to come home. I didn’t even feel him slipping his hands under the blanket at me until I felt his hands on my pajama bottoms. I wondered what he was doing and go away and just leave me alone, I don’t like that. But I pretended to be asleep, I don’t know why, I just didn’t want him to think I was awake.

After Steve pulled down my pajama bottoms, he pulled down my panties too. I kept my legs really tight together and we sort-of struggled for a minute all the time I was pretending to be asleep. I just couldn’t figure out what he was doing and this is really strange and leave me alone. He touched me down there down there for a little while and I felt him get off the bed and thought, thank God, this is over when I felt this wind on me and suddenly realized he was blowing on me. With his mouth and then he was kissing me and licking me and putting his fingers inside my hole where the pee-pee comes out. I tried to put my legs together but he held them apart really hard and I wanted to cry and scream but I just pretended to be asleep. When it was over, Steve pulled up my panties and pajama bottoms and went into the other room. I cried really quiet ‘cause I didn’t want to wake anyone up. Why did he do that, I don’t understand but it makes me feel bad.

Steve baby-sits every time my Mommy and Daddy go out and every time he does that kissing stuff again. I’m so afraid of the dark and I don’t like Steve anymore. I went to Mass and prayed really hard to God, but the next time it still happened so I think that God doesn’t like me anymore ‘cause he didn’t stop Steve and it happened again.

Now Daddy and Mommy are really mad at me ‘cause last night when Steve baby-sat us, I ran away from home. I really didn’t run away, I just hid in the closet of the empty house next door to us and didn’t come home until it was morning and light outside. They called the police and were so worried and shy did I do such a stupid thing and Daddy spanked me really hard when the policeman left. I had to stay in my room all day and nobody likes me anymore and I don’t care. I don’t like them anymore eight and if I had a little girl I would be a lot more nicer to her than this and wouldn’t let the monsters get her.

But we are moving now and I got to watch Rosie again and this time I blew on her belly and she laughed until her little face got so pink it was cute. Mommy and Daddy like me now and I don’t have to see Steve anymore and I’m really glad. I didn’t tell anyone what he did and I don’t think I should ‘cause I really was asleep when it happened and I think that I must have been having a bad dream. Don’t you think?

written: January, 1991

The End


Publication Date: 08-30-2011

All Rights Reserved

To ME and all of the other women and men who have experienced the struggle of rebuilding their lives and hearts after they have been broken.

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