A very basically written and worded poem, by myself, about some childhood issues I had growing up.  I’ll keep it that simple.  Feel free to leave a comment.

He stood upon the doorstep,

his grin was slightly sinister.

He had a six – pack in one hand,

and some money in the other.


At first I thought he was alright,

he gained my trust and earned his place.

But soon, the beer was piling up,

and the kindness and happiness stopped.


I heard the awful fights whilst in bed,

filling me with a terror so pure.

I tried to stop it, tried to help –

but I was only small.

I clutched myself in tears and fear,

flinching at every bang I’d hear.


The first time it happened, I was nine,

when he decided to take me for his own.

I tried to shout out, I didn’t want this,

but he threatened to kill me,

or tell them it was my fault.


The floorboards creak as he closes in,

the hinges squeak as he opens the door,

I see his white vest, an eerie glow in the shadows of my room,

I dread what’s next to come.


I feel his noxious breath on my face,

the weight of him crushes my chest,

his clumsy movements hurt my body,

his monstrous form makes me weak.

He left scars on me.


I’m too scared to move, frozen in time,

his cruel touch feels like razors on my skin,

I have to endure this repulsive pain,

and suffer with endless shame.


It feels like hours later, he gets up and whispers his final threat,

then he closes my door and walks off down the hall.

I silently weep into my pillow,

and fitfully drift off to sleep,

In my dreams is where he haunts me again –

the ordeal is repeated, a permanent record that can’t be deleted.


He pretends like nothing has happened,

and nobody knows a thing,

I have to act as normal as I can,

although I’m screaming and weeping from within.


I try not to be alone with him,

but it’s not that easy you see,

because all he wants is to be alone with me,

and I can’t tell anybody.

He might kill me, remember?

I’m too scared of his frightful temper.


Many years passed by,

this became my normal,

but somehow the fear subsided,

I just got used to living this way.

It always felt strange,

Like I led a double life –

oging to school, seeing my friends,

then being subjected to his demands.


The day that I finally broke free,

made me stronger than I ever thought I could be,

despite him chasing me down,

I still stood my ground,

and I never looked back again.


Now, he is alone,

he’s got no one anymore,

despite that, I can’t forget,

I still hear the creaking floor.


One day, he will die,

this abuser that I knew,

then finally, I can let it go.


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