Fear Poem

Poem About Childhood Mental Abuse

This is a poem about my childhood mental abuse. The little child inside cries.

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He Is Here

©

Published: July 2013

When her mother's gone,
the little child's body feels revealed,
for the shadows speak, you are not alone.

Close the shower curtains, cover any holes and doors;
I am afraid he can see you even more.

He is listening to all calls, quiet, we have to be careful, what we say,
can you hear him breathing ... dogs barking through the phone? 
He is tapping in, every day.

Lounging in his recliner, daring any distractions in front of his screen.
If you dare to cross it, there will a tree on your back,
with blood easy to be seen.

So never forget, once you cross him, you will be repaid,
for he will always be watching for a mess up, to get you that day.

With our friends, he tickled or hugged,
sexually and inappropriately, why? Just because.

Jealous of the children, for his mind is like a child,
needy at all times, wanting all attention from mommy,
and if not gained, for this little child, she says, pain will be mine.

Off from work he comes, releasing all anger held inside.
I am hiding in my room as a child, covered ears,
as tears rolled from my eyes.

Mommy cries from the mental effects, I assured her it's OK,
but his voice shouted, he wanted me out of the way.

He said the boys were always a sin, for being a male,
told his story from before, all were afraid of him,
even for a date was an ungodly knock at door.

In dreams, he touched, manipulated and lied,
as an adult predator, in the midnight hour.
Mommy, please come home save me,
I am telling the truth, your child is not a liar.

Wanting, not grateful for all that he can get,
smiling, while fake as can be,
after getting what he wants, he turns on you, stinging like a bee.

Mommy please do not let him punish in anger,
with a belt in his hand firm and anchored, but let it be in love,
Please Jesus, help me from above.

Never to love the children, he rather seek selfish desires,
we will always be his enemies, in memory, his abuse remain ours.

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