Molestation Poems

Fml

I'm sorry was you not expecting a reaction
What was I supposed act like the  didn't happen
And I prayed for an angel to save me
But when Mama came to rescue her baby
You called it kidnapping
You thru my hero in jail
And sent me back to hell 
For the devil to finish his "kid-napping"
I was told to

Raised by Trauma

My body is an ear.

Absorbing whispers meant for others' mouths that only close to wait to shove out more sound. 

In other directions.

Towards another mouth.
Mouths who vomit sounds for the sake of sound.
Mouths that speak without a plan for other mouths.

Earless mouths.

Blathering on until they forget why they opened.

Holes from which echoed flatulence reverberates.

Unmeant for

HOW CLOSE WAS YOU TO BEING ME?

THIS TOPIC IS RARELY DISCUSSED IN THE OPEN. MY STORY BEGAN IN THE DARKNESS, I WISH TO BRING IT TO LIGHT.
 IT STARTED IN MY FAMILY AS FAR BACK AS  MY GRANDFATHER, THEN UNCLES, DAD , STEP FATHERS A COUSIN, AND BOYS DOWN THE STREET AND A STEP BROTHER. YET NOT ONE OF US

Moral Support

You say you care
You say know
When I needed you
You say you was there
You don't know 
you wasn't there
You didn't care
you wasn't there
You wasn't there
How dare you
Say you care
You never cared
You was never there
You wasn't there
You wasn't there
How dare you
Say you know
You'll never
ing know
You wasn't there 
you wasn't there
Nobody believed me
Nobody was there 
Nobody knows
Of the

Molestation

buds open at night
like the stars on a clear sky~
bees come to molest 
     
dandy butterflies
land on bunches of flowers~
kissing each in turn 

claws of predators 
dig deep into the soft flesh~
audacious abuse
     
dark assaults the light
white clouds scurry in great fear~
gross molestation 



Dec.1.2022
A Brian Strand Choice

The Crippled

THE CRIPPLED

Walking toward foreshore
I saw the devil seated on a fence
Fishing
Next day I heard he got a thrashing
It was intense
Blood trickled from his core
He would fish no more
Baby and Mommy shark were out to score.

*

I Am a Victim of Molestation

I evoke the moaning Stars,
Bad memories reviving behind my bars.
I recur not having a care ;
Imagining we were soulmates.

I relive being so elated,
To bring it to the top.
I remember where it all started ;
And where my meekness stopped.

I recall the closing door -
The way he fiercely corked.
I remember being so afraid ;
The way he wildly

Ivasion

Of course I was scarred
by the sickly events
         
           I was young.
                         

Sunday Brunch

The same cross you nail someone else's sin to; will be the same one used to advertise you. 

The day gold became more important than bartering; was a time the world had been bought, and short-changed. 

The time the world had been short-changed; was the moment within ourselves, our heart was corruptible.

The moment our heart

Cold Hearts

Cold,
When we are grief is untold
When we are helpless and hopeless
When we are all wandering with no direction
When all hope is lost amidst insurgence.

Cold,
When the girl child is raped, molested and battered with no justice.
When innocent babies are aborted in birth places and thrown in sacred places.
When the boy child is put under immoral subjection

Rehabilitation

She was brutally raped
And sent home, her father's rage
Mixed with mother's curse
Rehabilitated her in marriage
With the rapist,à la carte.









Rehabilitation Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
Free verse poetry form only.
25th May, 2018

Human Resource Molestation

Red ink covers every written page
heads on the realm yet like no government
no planning rots the goods in the carriage
but the toppers still do not see this dent
mismanagement and corruption so flex
stagnating prosperity in a cuff
poverty and conflicts play and have sex
selfish leaders close their eyes and rebuff
lay foundations for the next to maintain
on the

Molestation

Just because it isn’t rape doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt 
Doesn’t mean you don’t have to relive every moment of it 
Doesn’t mean you don’t have to go through years of counselling 
Doesn’t mean you get to forget the horrible truth 
You never get to forget your only hope is to learn to live with

Invisible Molestation

Prisoners within a cell,a cell without a key.                                               

Mental Molestation

As I probe within the depths of my mind
Searching for all there is to know about you
little by little I discover the person you've become
and the more I learn the more I forget.
Now I am trapped within you
surrounded by you comp heart races as I notice the changes
little at first then growing into pain
how did

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