For many years
The word
"Hope"
Existed as
A swear word
To me.
Knowing
Any second
Another fist
Or kick
Will land.
As I struggle
With my toxic experiences
Of domestic and schoolyard
Abuse.
Praying for
The welcoming embrace
Of Death
And the darkness
She brings.
Knowing not
These criminal attacks
Upon my body and soul
Aren't my responsibility.
Although
Placing
The blame
Squarely
Upon myself.
Letting my tears
Eat away
At my soul.
Like falling drops
Of concentrated acid
On cloth.
Until
My self-esteem
And self-confidence
Were reported.
As vague rumours
As vague rumours
To have existed
At all.
Even now
Even now
I have to
Remind myself
Constantly.
I'm stronger
And better
Than those
Who hurt me.
For too many years
Of my life.
Therisa © 2016
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