MY BLOODY FOOTPRINTS.

kwrites

Everything changed that night, 
when he touched me in places that were not his right.

 

Disguised as an uncle, he was a demon, 
wicked was his smile and crooked were his teeth. 
he was my uncle whom I thought was fun,
but now for my life, I had to get up and run. 

 

I felt exposed...
Not because you stripped me naked,
For you ripped my innocence and everything sacred

.

I thought I  knew you and so I was safe... 
but you tricked me well and broke my trust, 
and all that just to feed your lust.

 

I cried and screamed for I wanted my mom 
My heart was on fire and my organs in a storm. 
So, I got up and ran as I would in a sprint 
I wounded my feet and left behind some bloody footprints.



 

  • Author: kwrites (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 22nd, 2024 10:33
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 9
  • Users favorite of this poem: Vanshika_bnsal
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Comments +

Comments3

  • Thoughtless

    Most abusers are someone who is known by the victim.

    • kwrites

      Unfortunately, yes.

    • sorenbarrett

      A sad story too often happening. The victim is always the victim and perpetrators are often victims too, not only of abuse themselves but of a shattered sense of self and senes of inadequacy. This poem was very well written and the last image was strong and powerful

      • kwrites

        I often wish that I should have done something about it. But I was only five. and I am afraid everything changed for me, but his life went on without even a morsel of remorse. but glad you liked it. thank you for your response

        • sorenbarrett

          We are not responsible for what we are not capable of and at five we are capable of far less. Love your poetry let it work for you.

        • Vanshika_bnsal

          I could literally feel the words...I loved how this was written

          • kwrites

            Thankyou bestie !!



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