Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Early morning musings of an abused child

The dark before dawn
is safest.
The sun yet an eastern
pixilated hope.
The stars faded and flickering out.
The moon retired to dusky sheets.
It's quiet.
The parents are dozing, recharging
the molester/monster is sated
or dead
sisters vigilantly sleeping.
I lay breathing, listening for the
ominous creak
of warning floorboards,
my soul chilling, shriveling.

The adult me drives to work
inky paths securely traversed
in a snug cocoon of metal,
watching other brave lights
sleepily creeping along
black streets.
Well being purls through
my limbs, warming, soothing.
My employer's building
glows in the near distance,
a holy city of soft
white light on a hill
welcoming me to
another day of

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