When the thoughts come
Cold and hard,
I cannot hold them in.
They burst upon me—
A little girl again.
From an early age I knew betrayal—
Definitive understatement that it is.
Patterns form my existence
And I hear his heavy breathing even now,
So close...
I hate this repetition,
This lying awake
Never knowing when he will come again.
This circle will never end.
The Father, the Son, and now the Holy Ghost.
I hate you all,
I hate that I cannot turn away,
That I cannot protect myself from this
Subtle, yet appalling, cycle.
I hate them
This is an amazing poem. I can well imagine what that was like, and I applaud you for handling it as well as you have. I was an abused child myself, so I know how disorienting and difficult that can be. I was surprised to see you writing about Louise Bogon (sp?) as none of the poems of yours that I've seen seem to rhyme. :)
Dena,
Beautifully expressed. For me, I came to realize that I knew the abominable pain they were causing me was only because they were in excruciating pain. It is not an excuse for behavior by any means--but I have come to sincerely understand why I loved them, anyway. I would have done anything I could have imagined as a child for them not to hurt so. Vicky
The second book in the telepathy series. It contains more ways for the up and coming telepathist to experiment with the sending and receiving of thoughts and is at the end of the story about future telepathy people found unexpectedly chosen by the go
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
A way to use your mind for silent communication. Speaking about the methods in the book I have used since a young age.
21st Century learning. I also have a GoFundMe page to ask for funds so I can research with other people and add their experiences
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Beautifully expressed. For me, I came to realize that I knew the abominable pain they were causing me was only because they were in excruciating pain. It is not an excuse for behavior by any means--but I have come to sincerely understand why I loved them, anyway. I would have done anything I could have imagined as a child for them not to hurt so. Vicky
the lament of belief
or the torment of betrayal
thanks, d.