Alone, even in a room full of people
Like a ghost-girl;
The dead amongst living.
Surrounded by her family, and those she calls friends
She's scared of every one of them, and feels hate
For the way they smile, pretend everything's okay
Well, it's not okay, she wants to scream, you were there for me too late!
She longs to escape from this pretence
The mask she wears, the character she plays
Her life is a theatre, acting out rehearsed lines
To pass the monotony of her empty days.
Because of him, she feels no pleasure
Can't take joy in the warmth of the sun
All the flowers and animals she once loved
She now hates, for what he has done.
Why her? She once so loved the world
And he took all the passion from her heart
She's robotic, unfeeling, so afraid if she cares
Someone she trusts will again rip her apart.
She can never forgive and never forget
The scars a constant reminder of the pain
When her innocence was torn away from her
Body abused, pleas scorned with disdain.
Mutilated by petrol and flames
By the stench of her own charred flesh asphyxiated
And his sick laughter drilling into her ears
As she lies on the floor, humiliated.
Rope slicing into the skin on her wrists
Drowning in a cascade of salty tears
Spreadeagled on a bed, degraded like a whore
Him towering over her, mouth spread in evil leers.
No matter how much she washes and scrubs
Her body feels impure, tainted with sin
She can still feel those grubby hands on her flesh
Groping, ripping and burrowing in.
And the knife remains in her nightmares
The blade used to carve open her body
Her arms and throat, prepubescent breasts
Her screams, to him, a sweet melody.
She still can't sleep with the door closed
Claustrophobic from all the hours, days, weeks
He imprisoned her in a secret den of torture
Using her body for sexual thrill peaks.
Sadistic excitement from seeing her blood
And the whip-weals on what once was pure
Her pain, to him, an aphrodisiac
To his insecurities, dominance the cure.
But she doesn't care for the problems he had
In her mind, he's destroyed her soul
Taking away what she once had
Tarring what was innocent and whole.
She weeps over lost rainbows
All the hope and dreams he destroyed
It seems that nothing in her life
Can ever fill that void.
At night, every shadow to her is him
Coming back to harm her again
To grip her throat, to force her down
Decorate the bedroom floor with bloodstain.
Her mother still goes to visit him
In the prison where he's iron-clad
But the girl he has broken will never again
Refer to him as her dad.
(I would like to point out that this poem is not a personal experience! Although thank you for the supporting messages I recieved from readers who believed that was the case!)
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Comments about this poem (Broken Girl by Kristina Jones )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(14 October 1888 – 9 January 1923)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
- Autumn Song, Katherine Mansfield
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe