Guilty Victims

Papa today I saw him
The man who snatched life me
He’s free papa
And his health is getting better
Papa, he fed on my blood
My virgin blood!
And drank my tears
He owns my flesh
Every inch my breasts grow
My fears swell
Will it arouse them?
Will it tell them I want it?
I saw him, and the memories surfaced
My mind popped open, and worms crawled out
There’s nothing left in this skull
But memories of torture and pain
All rotten
The smell won’t let me eat
The guilt won’t let me sleep
Don’t lie to me papa
I’m guilty
Wasn’t he right to pluck the flower of my childhood?
Wasn’t I meant to please the desire of men?
Papa, I’m guilty of fighting him
Guilty of reporting him
Guilty of damaging his reputation
I’m eating my flesh away
Or did I get sick?
Papa life has no meaning
Don’t you have death on speed dial?

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8 thoughts on “Guilty Victims”

  1. Reblogged this on Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit and commented:
    I understand this poem by George Agak very well because though it has been 40 years since that man, a man who later became a Pastor raped me and tried to rape me again. I’m still haunted by guilt and shame. Emotions and feelings I will take to my grave for he took my life from me. He removed from me the ability to have healthy relationships. There is a special place in hell for the so-called Rev.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Dancingpalmtrees, sorry for what you went through and thank you some more for the strength to speak it out. many victims die in silence, if we all spoke we would breath hope into someone else- that matters most!

      Like

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