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poem and explanation. (content may be considered unsettling)

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(this poem is yet to be named, and i know this is the 'poetry' section and i put a lot more than just poetry, i'm sorry, I didn't know exactly where this post should go...)


What you did to me

I can not understand

When you held me

...And I felt your hand


Softly touching me

Caressing me

Gently stroking my hair

...Your fingers everywhere


Moist kisses on my neck

On my chest

I feel you in my skin

My dress lifted up

...Your hand slipped in


Ghost whispers in my ears

Driving away my fears

....Inserting new ones of your own


Hot breath

Sweet lies

...How could I have seen through your disguise?


I still feel you

I hear you

I'm haunted by the memories

Vivid and frightening

Subtly always present

...Then striking like lightning


I was too young to understand

How can you call yourself a man?



(this is my first post as this user, though I used to have another username on here that I used a few times. i know the poem is not very good, it never has been revised or anything. It's the first poem I ever wrote about, well, what it is about, and (perhaps needless to say), it was not easy to write. It's something that any persons who know me in person, do not know. It happened a long time ago, and mostly, I just locked it away. Really, I locked it away so deep that, although part of me never forgot about it, I convinced myself that I did....until recently. I tried to help someone...on the FLIP side of my situation, meaning...the offender. He was an online person, and actually, he had never done anything, but he did like...younger girls. And he himself was only 15. I thought...maybe somehow I could help him and make him realize his problem and save some one from going through what I went through. Talking to him was the first time i ever admitted to myself what had happened. This was about...the end of last school year. It got to the point to where he was saying that he really was starting to question himself, but he said he needed real convincing, because for him, he didn't see anything wrong with dating 4-8 yearold girls (sometimes younger, rarely older). He said they seemed to like him a lot. So, I finally told him about what had happened to me and how they just don't UNDERSTAND what the guy is feeling and what he is trying to do and...well, all of that. He was shocked to hear what had happened to me and then started coming to me for help all the time. As hard as it was for me to not just...well, be disgusted with him and so on, i was there and listened and tried to help. But it was so hard, because to re-remember all of that...to admit it was real to myself for the first time…it just, was hard. I started having daymares which consisted of shivers and it just...felt like i could feel him breathing on my neck again...psychotic, i know. But I was only 7 or 8 when it happened, and I never told anyone. No I was not full-out raped. But it was my aunt's new husband (they didn't stay married too long) and I loved him to death. yeah, that sounds twisted, i know, but before anything happened, he just, he always held me and hugged me and kissed me. ~shakes head~. It disgusts me now that I was so stupid to not see what was going on. I was always far too snuggly and friendly with everyone. I guess, in that sense, it is partly my own fault. The point is, even though this all happened years ago, it's hard to finally take in account what happened. And then the kid i was trying to help, relapsed and started coming to me with 'girl issues' about how much he loooooooooved these girls. And he knew they loved him, and i'd try to help and he'd say i was wrong, it wasn't bad, i was just messed up from what had happened to me, he'd NEVER do that to them. I tried so hard for so long to help, but after awhile...I just...gave up. It was too much. The hardest part is knowing i failed someone. That some girl or girls are going to be hurt just because of me...it's all hard. And now I have remembered all of this, for nothing. And it's not like i can talk to anybody about it. It's a topic most people hate. And it makes me feel pretty stupid and very dirty. But...I don't know, I figured, maybe if I posted something on here, i could have the privilege of being anonymous, that way, if I freak someone (or lots of someones) out, I can just drop this account and not bring it up again. I'm really hesitant to post this...but...I don't know, I have to try something. I mean, it's gotten so bad that I was at the store, and I thought I saw him...I don't know, maybe I did, down the aisle...and i just froze. For...I don't know how long, and then walked back to look...and no one was there. Was there ANYone there? I really can't say. I don't know…but this entry is getting really long, and this being the POETRY section, I think I ought end fairly soon. Sorry if this entry is offensive to people or something…I didn't really know how to label it fairly: "Warning: content includes reference to molestation". That just…sounds weird. I don't know. Okay thanks, I'm done.

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We all come here I think for the privilege of anonymity. In this place we can be anything we want, however much or little we choose. I think the second ID is a good idea. God knows I have my own personalities and stories which need their own identity to live in.


Your poetry is honest, methodical and strong. The emotion is definite, the words carefully sculpted by your own subconscious. It is the epitome of what words should be.


This.. thing you attempted to help (I could not bring myself to call it a man), such personal strength in braving your own demons is near unheard of, but you cannot blame yourself for his failure of character.


Him and his upbringing are to blame, and regardless of anything I wish on him the darkest of hells. Perhaps I should have more compassion or forgiveness, as you seem to have. As I once wrote before:


I won't be the target of your anger.

I won't be the source of your lies.

I won't be another stranger.

But I won't lower myself,

to meet your eyes.

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