This poem speaks volumes.

Cluttered with memories I can not recall
A glimpse from the past sparks nothing at all
Melding together the visions and tales
Isolation is safe. There’s no pain in hell
It all runs together; this picture, that place
As the years roll by there’s no detail in that face
Snapshots appear inside of my head
My body goes numb while my mind is dead
At times I feel like I’ve done this before
Not sure if I really want to open that door
Fear takes over as the tears start to flow
Not wanting to face it; not wanting to know
The glimpse has grown into a vivid scene now
I was only a little girl! Can you please explain how?
I know what you did to me when I was a child
You made me feel dirty. You caused me to hide
A lifetime of torture is what you gave me
I pray your suffering now has forced you to see
No one knows how many others you hurt
You stole from us, robbed us, and made us feel like dirt
The solice I have is the price that you’ll pay
Your judgement will come on your final day
Your soul will burn in hell from that moment on
Was it worth it? Because you will then know you were wrong.

Shirley Ann Parkerson
© February 24, 2003