You wanted me to be your little girl
You wanted me to see you as my world
You wanted me to be all I could be
I wanted you to open your eyes and seeThe bruises on my arms were not love
The pain in my eyes was not relief
Blood stained the white feathers of the dove
And she did not mourn, but she grievedMy childhood was dust in the wind
By the time I was four
It was over with
The moment you shoved me into that doorBut Daddy, I am sorry
I am sorry I wasn't everything you wanted
I am sorry I made you mad
I am sorry for being so badI took the beatings for my brother
because you didn't see he had already given up
I carried the burden of pain for my mother
because you didn't see she was already shriveled upPlease God, set me free
Take these bruises from me
Please take away the breath of life
Oh, God, let me drop this knifeHeaven cannot set me free
It is not ready for me
I have suffered much in this life
but help does not come in the form of a knifeI will live
I will breathe
I will stand tall
And for myself, I will not fall
YOU ARE READING
The abuse
RandomI never was fiscal abused but I was sexually abused when I was little this book is poems about abuse and the fight agents it