First Shovel of Dirt
The man who you were born to trust
shouldn’t be the monster to then in turn bust
your bubble of hope for a fun, happy life
and become the nightmare of your every night.
She was trapped inside an abusive cage,
at the mercy of her father’s rage,
who continuously inflicted a shower of pain
while she cried her tears and sobbed in vain.
The suicide note on his nightstand
was written in the script of a young girl’s hand,
bedside the empty bottle of sleeping pills
that rendered freedom to his little girl.
The authorities looked the other way
knowing he received the dues for which he paid;
no one was willing to help her before -
they simply rolled him outside of the door.
She attended his funeral in a long, black dress;
disguising the relief, she did her best;
although her conscious bore a hefty scar,
she justified her reasons for what they are.
But, not until that first shovel of dirt
did she begin to release the unbearable hurt;
the abuse that this man constantly gave
was now buried forever with him in the grave.
She is now an advocate for abused youths;
empathizing with the secrets behind their truths;
hoping to help them get released from the hurt,
long before their abuser’s first shovel of dirt.
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2014
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