It's on the news, it's in the graveyard
It's on the TV, it's on the podcasts
Everybody wears the same name tag.
It happened to me, but I couldn't speak.
I happened to me worse.
The first time it happened, I didn't bleed,
just simply bewildered.
Later on when I was harmful
I sought it night and day.
Both the monster and the victim
in my body I played.
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Author:
Black Willow (
Offline) - Published: October 16th, 2026 03:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
Offline)
Comments2
Although not necessarily sexual there is a vicious cycle of abuser and abused carried on from one generation to the next. This poem leaves this feel. Well done.
This one hits a bullseye.
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