Get Your Premium Membership

1 In Effiing 4

God is a effing sadist, they are not the love, nor the truth or nor the light. God is a cursed, twisted, cruel and uncaring being, as they watched it happen and have not stopped it. Some days rain is too much, as I listen to echoes of memories of my children's destruction. I am left with memories scattered in the night sky as stars blinking, coming to the surface and disappearing fast. Each scream tears me to shreds. Little hands tie the colorful ribbons to the loud fence, still broken by the sins of their father. They say that the body keeps the score, There are 4 bodies who keep the score and not one of you gives a . Little girl curls mortified against the wall screaming “DDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Little mouth screams not wanting to die, as they see ghosts. Little girl reenacts everything, keeping secrets. Little girl arranges toy animals into explicit positions. Little girl gets frozen, unable to move, speak or react, body is just a shell. Little girl forgot how to get dressed. Little girl is scared of windows. Little girl asks how that the house has shrunk and how that she is so tall. Little girl soils herself. Little girl vomits in fear. Little girl cuts herself and calmly, without uttering a sound watches the blood drip. I hold a little girl who is trying to grab the knife to end it all, no one gives a damn. “I am sorry statistically 8 year olds do not kill themselves” says voice on the end of line. There is a mortified 4 year old in a 10 year olds body. There is a mortified 4 year old in an 8 year olds body. Little girls tell their secrets to their wolves. GOD IS EFFING SADIST and the rest of you just conveniently sweep it under the carpet as it is not comfortable to see. 1 in ing 4!!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Shattered Sighs