Inside my glass dome
MOTHER !! Can you not hear me, I'm trying to tell you at last.
As I bang on the glass,my clenched fists hitting fast.
He hurt me mother, in a place he shouldn't,
he said he'd make me stronger, I knew he wouldn't .
In the kitchen my mother just carried on singing,
To Shirley Bassey on the radio, all the time she was cooking.
I banged so hard on the glass I thought it would break,
Up went the radio, carried on singing for fuck sake.
The noise inside the dome vibrated around,
It hurt my eyes, my ears, my crown...
Still she sang, the awful fucking tune,
Mario Lanza next, now she will swoon.
The only other noise that was in our so called home,
Was my little baby brother, in next room on his own.
Ah, my baby boy, what you doing standing there,
Said my mother now seeing me, then fixing her hair.
Go out and play, but be back in an hour,
Daddy I'll be home, we can have tea after his shower.
I ran out of our yard, through the passageway, into our street,
Standing staring at our front door, it will be a while next we meet.
That bastard will never lay a hand on me again...
I then ran, and ran, and ran, and ran... Never looking back.
There's only one way to tell i am an abused child,
Look at my eyes, you can see the glass...
-
Author:
P.H.Rose (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 18th, 2017 18:08
- Comment from author about the poem: when I was young I use to stand staring at my Mother in the kitchen as she cooked. Inside me I was in a glass dome, inside it I shouted to her what was happening To me, but outside I was just stood there Staring..... I often wish I could of Smashed the glass.... I will not of been the only child In a glass dome.... It is always in the eyes of an Abused child... You just have To look....
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 58
Offline)
Comments3
I can only imagine the pain but this poem brings home the reality of the suffering - so very well expressed in
an epic piece.
Thank you Michael
I can see you standing there in the pain you were in hoping that your Mother would have heard you and helped instead of ignoring the pain you were going through by an a-hole. So sorry. If I were there I would have kick his ass to the curb. Sorry about the language on a Sunday, but I can relate. Great job putting it in a poignant poem.
Thank you so much
WBL for your lovely
Comments
Thanks for caring (about abuse) and sharing. I can tell you from experience that writing a poem related to any "suffering" you may be enduring is always cathartic. In this poem I could feel a little ANGST escaping from your heart and mind and being replaced with an equal amount of UNDERSTANDING> That's how it is for me. Yours BRIAN
Thank you Brian
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