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What was that shadow under my dress

You took me so far from myself, that I forgot who I was A stranger looked back at me in my own mirror I heard a little girl crying inside, but yet I couldn’t see her What was that shadow under my dress? Daddy’s little girl, singing a song, “You ought to been there when the Lord saved me.” I sang well, yet I was still waiting to be saved… Don’t you all see me, drowning in hurt being strangled by darkness? What was that shadow under my dress? Daddy, daddy, daddy… But you’re my daddy Fathers sell not your daughters as whores, for if you do your nation will be turned to Whoredom… Daddy, daddy, daddy… But you’re my daddy What was that shadow under my dress? Being led around by darkness bound by the invisible leash of my innocence Nothing was the name that he gave me… If you love me you won’t tell, was the silence of that song he played for me… What was that shadow under my dress? Reaching around in my world of darkness trying to find something, anything to hold on to… Beyond the point of feeling blue… Each day, molestation was nothing new… What was that shadow under my dress? Asking what more do I have to take before being left alone… Confusion choked me… Why?, Was the only food I could eat… Why didn’t anyone help me? Why was I left alone? What was that shadow under my dress? Taking a bath was like bathing in the lake of fire… Red raw rashes, whips and lashes where the clothes that he gave me… It was actually a relief when he only beat me by a tree… What was that shadow under my dress? Cursed from the day I was born, being taught before I could walk how to pose for ****… My panties pink with flowers, being pulled off of my body every midnight hour… Sexual deviance being sown into my DNA Innocents told me, that’s just the way Daddy’s like to play What was that shadow under my dress? Time has passed and Daddy’s gone to and been released from Jail… Over 22 years he was locked up a sexually violent predator civilly committed never supposed to sleep outside of a jail cell… Throughout my life those who have heard my story considered me blessed… Yet I still struggle and pray one day I can truly understand what that shadow was under my dress…

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




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Date: 5/23/2011 7:14:00 PM
This , of course, is shocking to say the least. This happens far too often in this day of supposed civility, Faizah. There are several poets on the soup.that speak of this kind of tragedy in their own lives and others and write about it to help themselves and others heal these terrible wounds. Thank you for sharing and God bless you , Thank you for your encouraging comments
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