April Gabriella Poet Rhyme

The Little Girl

There was once a little girl everyone called an "old soul"
This little girl had far too much self control
All the time she wanted to beg and cry
To be let out of this life, to be buried under blue sky
But she never did cry to die
Not out loud, but all the time inside
Everyone thought she was just quiet and shy
They had no idea that she wanted to die
Of course you wouldn't think a child of that age
Would be tired of life at this tender stage
But tired she was, tired of the nights
When he would come into her room
And turn off the lights
She wanted to die yes, each and every time
But no one knew and she could not tell
She would just peer over ledges
And wonder "What if I "fell"?
She often wondered how she could "accidentally" leave
Because in her life she only ever grieved
Grieved for her innocence forever lost
She wanted so bad to die at any cost
She did not die though, she was not brave enough
To take her own life no matter how rough
So she just went through the days listlessly wandering
Everyday, every year the same questions pondering
"Why do I continue to live this life
When all it ever had for me is strife?
I'll tell you why, because I' a coward
Too scared to take my life, too scared to be empowered
Too scared to live and be free
Too scared to know the deepest parts of me
I have to do something I can no longer abide
Living everyday just to die inside"
The girl made a promise, to herself and no one else
That she would put her pain on the shelf
She would leave it there and try to forget
Everything that happened, all the torment
There was a life she wanted to live
She decided it would be in her best interest to forgive
Not forgive him, that she could not do
But forgive herself for everything she went through
And try to live the life she always wanted
Being happy and vibrant but not haunted
Haunted by the ghosts of yesterday's past
She hoped she could be happy now, free at last
But the girl did not really believe deep inside
That from her pain she could actually hide
Pain and suffering was all she knew
What if this plan for her life also fell through 
The girl did not know what else to do
So she just went on with the days
Pretending to forget what she had been through

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Richard Lamoureux July 23, 2013 at 7:07 PM I grew up in an abusive home and I can speak from experience there can be healing. My first prayer is that this is an artistic excercise. My second is that if it is real that you have come to know joy and freedom.nmy third is that if you have not that you come to know that it is possible and that that possibility becomes fully realized. Richard Lamoureux July 23, 2013 at 7:11 PM A good starting point is to realize on an emotional level that it is not your fault. I really mean it, it is not your fault. Contemplate that message over and over and over.

Milton Toran July 21, 2013 at 3:51 PM My wife can relate to this. She was sexually abused by her stepfather. She had a horrible childhood and those painful memories haunt her to this very day. Milt

Duke Beaufort July 21, 2013 at 11:10 AM The anger from being abused is most interesting. I find that it is a thermometer on how well I am doing at leaving the bad stuff on the shelf. When the anger returns, it is usually because I am not feeling that well about myself, and I take it as such. Abuse does something that I find can never be reversed completely. I had an abusive care taker. I haven't spoken about it much lately, but it is always there. Time seems to help.

James Marshall Goff July 19, 2013 at 1:17 PM wow, April.......reminds me of the work of another fine poet here on the soup.....this genre is important to reveal.....great work! jim

Richard Tarr July 18, 2013 at 9:36 PM Wow I'm really sorry for you or whoever you wrote this about.... No one deserves to go through that it amazes me the scumbags that are out there... Great poem btw

Gail Debole July 18, 2013 at 8:10 PM So sad...what the girl endured...that she could not get help. Your poem is so insightful. Thank you for reading mine.

Charmaine Chircop July 18, 2013 at 3:15 PM Pretending to florget ..but its so hard to.forget abuse.Maybe she can.try to forgive so.she can live with her past but easier sad than done.Abuse is so terrible..in any form especislally when kids are involved.A heartfelt poem indeed.