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Click hereWhen I was six years old
I wore cotton pajamas
dotted in small flowers
that were lacy at the sleeves
When I was six years old
I ran in cotton pajamas
and hid in my father’s bathroom
hoping to disappear
When I was six years old
I pressed my back to tiles
and prayed the shower would pour
and wash me down the drain
When I was six years old
he found me in the shower
and I forget the rest
and I never was the same
Oh my ... I reread this several times too.
Yes, it is a hard read. I think was an even harder write.
I have written some things like this before. I know the pain and anguish. Also the purge ...
I can only say this poem touches us all differently. Love will pour out - then anger FOR the child. What she went through.
Innocence is something we should treasure and value. Hope this small child is loved and very much valued today, for I do know YOU my friend are a great poet and have a bright intelligent mind. Huggs and a shoulder here if you happen to need it ~
Read this several times today and decided that this is a read too hard, inviting visions of extreme pay-back to the perpetrator who has so savaged innocence.......for starters, have him sit naked atop the fire ant mound - and any true lady of the South knows what THAT will do........
are hard for me...as I helped my very best friends unravel the adoptive parent abuse she went through ..it was a very draining experience...thanks for sharing...bluerains