I hear his footsteps coming towards me and I know…
The words he is saying
The rules he is laying down
The fears I am betraying
…it’s not right
I see him in the dark before me and I know…
She does not make a sound
As his fist takes its first pound
And knocks me to the ground
…it’s not right
I smell him as he lowers towards me and I know…
This time won’t be because of drink
Inside myself I start to slink
I must go where I cannot think
…it’s not right
I feel his arms around me and I know…
How many cracks are in the ceiling above
Not to ever resist or push becomes shove
Only open my mouth for the depth of his love
…it’s not right
I taste more than tears on me and I know…
All the lies I’ll contrive
The pleasure he derives
In taunting “Why you still alive?”
…it’s not right
My senses overload when he leaves and I know…
When a fourteen-year-old is no longer sad
Cannot be so bothered to be mad
When ordered to coo “Goodnight Dad”
…it’s not right
Raivenne-lations 
Well, *there’s* a gut punch! Powerful stuff, my friend. ❤
This is very deep and full of sadness but so real. Thank you for sharing.
Ugh, sickening. Very appreciative of you getting the words out and sharing them.
Oh, this is powerfully penned. Girl children are unsafe in a world of men, as Alice Walker wrote in The Color Purple.
Wonderfully written, with all the horror necessary. I wish it could be read by everyone and move the world!
The songlike composition here is protective wall (or staightjacket) for all the ferocious encounters with an old beast. It’s a terrifyingly smooth read which should follow aggressors into their graves.
This is soo good.. I’ve literally got goosebumps!
Not right… not right at all.. I could feel it starting bad and getting worse… really good.
“How many cracks are in the ceiling above”… really powerful – disturbing … Good God …
“How many cracks are in the ceiling above”… really powerful – disturbing … Good God …