He ruined my childhood,
And I still hear his footsteps
Behind me now.
I'm not scared to glance backwards,
For I know that - so long as I keep moving -
He cannot catch me, own me,
Break me; not again.
I gave him chance after chance
To turn things around,
Only for him to wound me
As soon as he was close enough to reach me.
Over and over, I tried -
I wanted to be loved,
I wanted him to be happy,
I wanted him to feel proud,
I didn't want him to hurt me again.
In hindsight, he should have known better:
I was a child, he was a fully grown man...
Perhaps he took pleasure in how easy it was
To break me, to manipulate, to destroy,
To pretend to change, only to stab me again.
If I keep moving, he won't catch me -
I am not particularly fast,
But I need only be faster than him.
It is not hard to be faster than him.
YOU ARE READING
Refraction.
PoetrySo many aspects, colours and themes make up our experiences. Truly, is anything entirely good or entirely bad? Upon weighing up the positives and negatives of the past, do we not admit that even tragedy is- in a twisted sort of way- advantageous? O...
