I can smell the disgust
My fingers are forced around his flesh
My dad played "monsters" when I was 7 I was good he said I'll go heaven.
It was a game
Everyone thought the same
In reality I hear the heavy breathing
The demons sounds like a strangled Raven
My fingers wrapped around the rustling shawl
I'm forced right down
Now stuck on this wooden bed
So hard that from years it has lost its spark
This point deep inside me
Reddening my face
Thickening my blood
It flowed out my eyes
With reluctant speed
I was pleasured in horror and distress
I scream in fear
I feel so much pain
Immortal thoughts filling my brain
He told me to call him dad
What such thing did I pose which was to be bad?
Monsters-I don't like monsters
It haunts me
I'm shivering in an empty room
This place is so cold and ungodly
I tremble through this wrenching grave
This is my monster father.
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Author:
Samreen Chowdhury (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 28th, 2016 14:55
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 91
Offline)
Comments4
Awesome
Thanks
Thank you
Haughting
🤔🤔
Rich in the horror of the destruction of innocence. My heart goes out to you.
Thanks 🎀
This poem is actually saying a seven year old who is being sexually abused by her father and as a young mind she's not aware of what's going on but she knows it's all disgusting because it doesn't feel right-I got this idea from a book I read called "the immams daughter" by Hannah Shah it's very tragic you should read it!!!
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