BURYING DIRT
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This poem is my reflection about me just starting out in life just doing what teenagers do. All my dreams about my future were crushed by way of the dirty hands of a forty year old man.
This poem explains the pain that never leaves an abused child, and how it scars one for life.
I was twelve once,
long brown hair,
big brown eyes,
men always stared.
I was twelve once,
smart and witty,
some would say,
I was pretty.
I was twelve once,
dreamed about life,
would I someday,
become someone's wife.
I was twelve once,
got knocked down,
was not allowed,
to make a sound.
I was twelve once,
cried all alone,
this glass house,
doesn't throw stones.
I was twelve once,
grew up fast,
stuck on twelve,
my hearts harrased.
I was twelve once,
from long ago,
still feeling affects,
from his blows.
I was twelve once,
and you forty,
I can't forget,
our slumber party.
Copyright © Vickie Hurtt - Thayer | Year Posted 2023
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