My Abuser
It happened many years ago,
yet from my mind it refuses to go.
Death freed me from my abuser's life,
the day it freed him from the claws of his own miserable life.
But to me life is just a transparent glass,
through which I see my childhood rolling on the grass.
My physical chains were taken off,
but my psychological chains still switches my happiness off.
yes, he is dead,
but with him my freedom died.
I mean my abuser.
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