He touched me
Sweaty hands on
Innocent flesh
I can't tell
He told me if I
Told he would kill
Me
He touched me
Oh God, I feel dirty
I scrubbed and scrubbed
I can't get him off
I still feel his
Smelly breath on me
I want to tell
I want to tell
He touched me
He hurt me
I'm so scared
He could do it again
Can't talk to no one
I want to scream or
Die
He touched me
Locked door, muffled cries
Stained sheets, Innocence stolen
Shadows unprotecting
Hands gropping
I'm soiled, unclean
I want to tell
I want to tell..
"We walked in on a surreal scene. There are few words, if any, to accurately describe the abject horror..."
What Jeannie and Kevin McDonough saw was a wanted, multi-state serial killer about to take his next victim - their own daughter. W
PI novel set in Manhattan during the 1980s when art galleries and model agencies were the two most glamorous businesses in the world. Dangerously well written.
Read Chapter 1 here: https://www.lit4u.com/art-and-beauty-chapter-1/
Literary Titan
david
I feel like to do scream...but this keeps happening.
Nobody hears.
Awesome poem.
John
Love, JC xoxoxo
Love Tinka
[[[[[HUGS LINDA]]]]]]
Excellent!
TRASK
I personally felt the pain in this write. It is only in the telling that one can finally begin to heal. Thanks for sharing this one.
Tami