Bottom line…I am a survivor of childhood sexual assault and this is my story. I hope that it helps others. “Let this poem be someone else’s bravery.”
The walls in that apartment can tell the story better than the mind
It speaks with a stench on its breath of Wild Irish Rose, and reaches out with heroin filled veins
The insides cry and swell in a room where toy Army men were used to try to groom
innocence into a monster
The only thing left are parts of a looming pain with seeds in its wake and partners wondering why
These parts cannot be underestimated for they are bigger than the most generous heart
He carries Brooklyn on his back
He carries every transitional move from state to state and piles on more for those who walk the same track
Humbled and broken
He carries it for the thugs unspoken
For loves unchosen
For those doing the bid leaving the shank in the offenders heart hoping . . . .that’s the same gift giver who offended him
He never knows
As he goes through life aimlessly seeking self
Relationships inconsistencies ruining his health
Because fucking always feels good he never means to fail at love
THAT focus. . .like the sniper behind the scope it remains in sight
Though the war internally rages on
The walls in that apartment can tell the story better than the mind
Of how a childhood lost may never be found
The straw of hay in the pin cushion he is stuck every time
A new focus of truth is found
Blood pours from fingertips which a bandage can never hold
Now old and clotted it remains hardened yet hopefully pardoned in this wake
For goodness sakes save me…outstretched arms praise He
Let this poem be someone else’s bravery
Let it be someone else’s bravery. . . .
© KonciouSLea Written through bravery
KonciouSLea Written 