To Run Or Not To Run-Collaboration With Silent One
~Collaboration with Silent One~
Laura Loo's Poem: PART I- A child thinking about running away
Neglected…unprotected…
frayed from the inside
impaired…nobody cared…
I have no mother to nourish my unhealthy soul. My father
loved the bottle and the bruises combined with my mental
wounds brought forth contused abrasions.
Free me, please, free me…
I am only a little girl who has dreams that only a little girl
can dream. I am seeing that no matter what direction I walk
I will always be in constant frantic fear. I am never going to
be the little girl I should be. I am going to grow to be shameful
as my innocence was stolen at such a young age. I had no
concentration with too much recognizable pain. I started to
skip classes. It began when the verbal distress grew worse.
The damage caused so much pain I fell to the ground ragged and mangled.
Insults. belt buckles. wooden sticks.
If I make a decision to show a smile, I’ll be crying on the inside.
If I choose to laugh, I’ll be drowning in panic internally.
I am so tired…tired of my concealed sorrow. Beyond the depth of nothingness, my silence lives inside a tomb.
I have become two separate girls. One girl was bright and
blameless with purity in her spirit. The other girl was battered
and alone with no guidance, only abuse. Surprisingly, I felt my
life was worth saving and I knew my decision may bring me peace and safety.
Packing one bag…packing two books…packing my teddy.
I knew in my heart it was the only way to escape the inferno of
my father’s torment...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Silent One's Poem: PART II- A runaway child
Mind made up, house disappeared into obscurity,
wind howled as rain gushed; but there was no going back.
Regret sets in as fear culminates,
ironically wanting my father to find me - he does not come.
The world seems so big - I feel so small,
like a mouse hiding from sly predators.
Penniless, scared, cold and hungry;
wandering unknown streets - searching warm sanctuary.
In desperation, forced to commit acts
no 15 year old should ever experience.
Days on the street, lead to months..
Stained clothes - unwashed; dirty like a rat.
Frantically searching to belong - marginally surviving.
Don't know where to turn or who to trust,
violated in a world of abuse.
Wondering what I ever did to deserve this.
Wishing I had never ran away.
Date Written: April 26, 2016
Copyright © Lu Loo | Year Posted 2016
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