Abuse Poem


It happened 4 years ago, when this awful guy would follow me around. It wasn't really molestation, but I felt as though it was. I felt like he'd really touched me, even though he only ever poked my side, or my shoulder, or my back...He haunts me every day, even though he's gone. I don't trust guys much anymore.

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Published: October 2009

Vile, revolting hands
that touched me.
Something as small as a shoulder-tap
felt as icky as if the grubby hands
had touched where a swimsuit should cover.

Harsh, degrading words
that cut as deep as any razor I'd used
to try and get rid of the feeling;
the dirty, worthless feeling.

Disgusting, glittering eyes
that greedily tried to eat me up
while pinning me down.
I felt naked while fully clothed.

Horrible, ugly face
that I had to see each day,
and that spit on me once or twice
when I walked by.

These haunting, creeping memories
have suddenly begun to crawl out of the grave
where I'd buried them years ago.
I thought the past was gone,
but I guess I was wrong.

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