I worked it outI don’t know why
I had to know
I heave a sigh
From age 11
To an adult grown
He took my innocence
He took my home
Each week he’d have me
Without fail
I tried to fight
To no avail
His hands would touch
His eyes would look
So sweet and innocent
My life he took
He’d touch me places
He should not have seen
Those places were mine
So innocent and clean
His fingers fondled
More than just once or twice
But a fondle would never
Just suffice
On all fours he’d have me
Or laying still
As he’d shove it in me
To get his thrill
He left me broken
Bleeding too
A wounded soul
Through and through
A pain so intense
I cannot explain
A fear so strong
It consumed my brain
Each bad memory
I try to conceal
I want to forget
I want to heal
But here is the thing
That noone understands
How many times I was his
At his demand
From age 11
To an adult grown
At least 400 times
I was his to own
400 times
Took its toll
400 times
He took my soul
But 400 times
Is just the start
There’s lots more memories
Locked inside this bleeding heart
1 time is too many
So tell me how do I begin
To cope with 400 times
And heal the little girl within?
Thanks for reading
**Image courtesy of Google Images**
