Women’s rights
My childhood was meant for innocent adventures,
Climbing trees and chasing dreams, not living traumatic ventures.
But you stole that blissful promise with your heinous deeds,
Planting seeds of fear only a shattered soul sees.
My sweet dog was my guardian, my friend,
A source of pure love, on which I could depend.
With a wagging tail and cuddles abounding,
They gave me a safe space when terror was compounding.
But you saw my dog as an inconvenient truth,
A witness to your atrocious unchecked pursuit.
So with a gun's loud bark, you murdered that light,
Ensuring only darkness would grip me at night.
As my dog's life faded, I felt my hope expire,
Replaced by the harsh knowledge I couldn't deny your fire.
The message was clear, stay silent, don't you tell,
Or more than just my dog would be forced to farewell.
So I swallowed their death along with your depraved acts,
Locking away the pain, sealing it with tight pacts.
But trauma doesn't disappear, it simmers and grows,
Unleashing its anguish on my adulthood's blows.
Now PTSD is my constant unwanted houseguest,
Holding me hostage with fear that will never rest.
I flinch at loud noises, am petrified when alone,
Plagued by the screams of the voiceless, the unshown.
My dog's final cries, their life slipping away,
Haunt my nightmares, ensuring I never find peace in the day.
They were innocent, loving, and you stole their last breath,
As a warning for me to stay silent about your living death.
I'm shattered, traumatized, struggling to find calm,
As the ripples of your abuse continue ringing alarm.
You robbed me of safety, of security's embrace,
All because one dog dared give me unconditional grace.
Copyright © Arianna Stone | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment