Abuse Poem by Teens

Poem About Child Abuse

This is me when I suffered from Child abuse. My mother had died shortly before leaving that place. I can't express myself well, but I wanted to get across just a bit of how I feel now. I am 16 now, and every day I feel so many negative emotions inside me; these feelings and memories play in my head every waking moment.

And don't get me wrong; I believe that God Exists. Just like demons and such.

I do believe there is a God; I just don't think he has any interest in me.

Enough of me.

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And I Prayed For Something To Save Me

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Published: May 2014

I used to trust, I used to believe
In a God that was almighty
And that someday he would save me

I loved my mother, she was everything I had
In that apartment of mine, in that small cage I wasn't allowed to leave
And she was my savior; All I had was my pride
Even though I confessed to her, even though I cried

I accepted her dull expression; I learned to not really care
Or expect her to do anything. I settled
for a mother who did absolutely nothing;
But I loved her still.

I took those beatings and I cringed at his touches
From this man, and that man, and all of them;
And the first one was right
You can't trust anybody not to hurt you.

I was small: I was young; I was barely eight
But those memories are still with me; and they are the most vivid
memories I will ever remember.

Helpless; and I was dirty; disgraced
And for the first time after constantly asking this God
I knew was there above me
Turning his cheek and letting me be vilified

For the first time I knew not any hope
I knew not any salvation or prayers
For the first time I knew what it was like to hate
To want him dead like the movies I watched with mother

For the first time I felt utterly disgraced; betrayed!
Leaving me to pray for a mother who did nothing;
For a "father" who was filth; praying to a God who didn't answer!
No one answered!

You pray to Sunday mornings; to clean linen; to church bells and hymns
And he let me waste-- like so much unwanted rubbish
Worthless and meaningless; like filth--
a lying God who is believed to care.

Oh mother, I cry over you; I wish you would come back
But each time in my heart I know you're just ashes
You're just pecks of dust and dried out tears
And horrid memories.

All that I wanted was to be saved; all that I wanted was to not feel
Like I do now; if it had been different; if it wasn't like it was
I always wished something would save me---
It did not matter what, or how unholy it was. At least
they would have 'cared' enough to do something

And underneath those bedsheets I hid, and underneath those unwanted
and guilt tripping touches, caresses, kisses; hot kisses, biting kisses
All those kisses
I would wait for the door to open, for the same thing to resume
Detach yourself from it; pretend that this magic he wants from you
Doesn't exist-- pretend the sadness and stolen innocence
And sweet bittersweet corruption doesn't exist
Bite that tongue of yours, because this is the sweetest falsehood you'll ever get.

That one last thing; Oh Angels of heaven, of despair, of a kind love
do you know the coldness of stale air?
The staining of pure white linens?
Even with a small body underneath bed sheets, terrified, added with another
They're always still cold.

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