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I'm Not Bitter
Oh, red-topped woman
Arenose rose
Soiled with the soot
Of fires I've never known
Broad-shouldered matron
You must have seen some rough times
So how easy is it
For you to take advantage
Of a raw, fresh soul like mine?
Oh, angel with devil's eyes
Filthy Sinner
Glossed over
A burdened saint
With the last wheeze
Of your decrepit heart
You reach out, lash out
And corrupt mine
And who is left to bear the blame?
Oh, God forbid it be you
But perhaps the root
Which fruits your demise
Is guilt
Over the repugnant truth no one will acknowledge
And you never did feign
A 'saint' stole my innocence
I see her in the mirror
And she sees my shame.
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I was sexually abused as a child by a trusted loved one, someone very close to me physically and emotionally. At the apex of said abuse, this person passed away. This experience has caused me much mental and physical anguish, as the stress has taken its toll on my body. I have battled with my demons; fear, anger, rage, confusion, depression, remorse, and loss. Whether I want to accept it or not, this has played a big roll in the making of the woman I am today. But I do accept it, and I know that I have the courage to speak out. Though it was not the aim of this piece, I wish to use this experience and knowledge to aid others in their struggles, give them a voice, and let it ring like a bell. We children whom have been deprived of our innocence deserve to be heard, not shamed; and other children, and their caretakers, deserve to be warned.