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Texas Goddess's blog: "just stuff"

created on 09/26/2006  |  http://fubar.com/just-stuff/b7249

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The frigerator is full of beer,
And the couch is full of crumbs.
I go to bed and in my head,
I just know he's going to come.

For my dear old Dad, has made me sad,
By playing house with me,
And you can bet, I can't forget,
All the things he's done to me.

For he's robbed me of my purity,
And he's stripped me of my pride,
He took from me my virginity,
And he ruined me inside.

It makes no sense my innocence,
Was forced to take a tragic fall.
I don't know why but I know that I,
Have become my Daddy's Doll.

I'm so confused for I've been abused,
And I don't think he will stop.
It sounds absurd but If I say a word,
I know I'll get a pop.

And I'll have to lie about my eye,
When it is black and blue.
I slipped and fell, I hurt like hell,
But what am I to do?

It will do more harm if I tell my Mom,
Because she'll think it's a lie.
And for a fact, she'll tell me that,
"Daddy's not that type of guy".

And because I'm young, I bite my tongue,
And my tears begin to fall.
I wonder why I have to cry,
And be my Daddy' Doll.

do you hear me mom,
in the room right beside yours.
the only thing that separates us is dad and the wooden doors.
he touches me mama,
don't you even care?
that he's in my room so late,
and not in there?
he penetrates me,
he holds me down,
and yet you still do not come in.
but I have gotten used to it,
tomorrow it will happen again.
I grit my teeth and try not to cry.
I do not want to appear weak in his eyes.
moma I'm lying here now,
he's gone back to you.
how can you not know of the things he will do?
why don't you help,
why don't you stop him.
I'll just get used to it moma,
cuz tomorrow it will just happen again.

Being molested cut me deep inside,
and all I really wanted to do was cry.

The emotions it brought me, I cant deny,
that it left me a horrible feeling inside.

The pain it brought me , I felt alone,
and soon I started getting out of control.

This feeling it was killing me inside,
That I could not tell my secret that was forever haunting my mind.

This so called " uncle " was my family and made me do things that I would never want to do, and after he finished he'd say nothing but, I love you.

What I found so repulsive and vile to me, but I was full of fear not wanting to tell, because I knew it would bring me hell.

Life gets harder day by day, but now I don't have to worry about him wanting to play.

What he wanted to play was not a game, it was disgusting and sickening to my brain.

I lay by my bed, sit on the floor, cross my hands and begin to pray because I'm finally happy now that the doors shut and he has gone away.


Sometimes dreams are better off not real.
Old yearnings drain away through open gates.
Regretfully I tell you how I feel,
Returning both of us to former states,
Yet with wounds that time will have to heal.

It's over. I tried so long to "hold" but
finally, "fold" was the only option left.
I know well "the ways of a man with a maid".
I know well the length, breadth, depth
and height of a man's pursuit of "his" woman.
I know well how it is "when a man loves a woman".
I know well this that this man does not love me...or not enough.

So now I write as I always do to bring closure within.
It's over despite the question marks, the "I don't get its".
It's over despite the faint but pervasive feeling of loss.
I write to close the book on what might have been.
I write to quash any lingering hope against hope...
to erase the possibility of what could still be...
to erase his memory as I erase his number from my phone.

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