When you realise childhood abuse has no power over you anymore - that self love kills it.
Copyright 2006, CJKoenig-Stoodley Unpublished Works. All Rights Reserved
ODE TO THE ABUSED
I cry for the lost and the lonely, I cry for the stolen years.
My soul cries inside in silence when I can't cry out loud or with tears.
I can't take back what was taken nor erase, or return to re-live it;
I cannot fix, understand, or mistake it, or ever completely forgive it.
What was once broken remains irretrievably broken;
what was once feared still makes me afraid.
Things unsaid will remain unspoken,
painful scars of a trust - now betrayed.
No choice but time-limited choices - the options left after despair
no choice but to be a survivor instead of a victim of theirs.
Still, the music of life keeps on playing
as love fights hard to survive
and as each day-step clears the depression,
I can thank God that I'm still alive.