Who I am -- is not for your amusement

I am not your amusement child, for when you are stressed or weary of the world
I do not look sexy or cute, do not entice anything out of me, with your sexual connotations


I am but a child, sitting there watching tv
Learning about the world, all of such eight, staring out the window


Not yet grown, not understanding that there is evil out there
And evil there laying on the couch -- watching me -- waiting, planning


For when the house is empty, ready to pray on me
Decisive, practiced, many a girl before me, and many after me


So I wonder, what went through in your mind, when you decided to violate my body
When you decided, what my life should be.


     Was it that you were stressed, like you told me so many years later, when I grew up
     Or was it just that you were a man -- weak, useless and cruel

Incident

Eating his sandwich
In the squadroom
Afterwards
Must have been
Been beef or ham
McDonalds
It must have been

Worthwhile

The little girl
Cried at the window
Springs wide
Being fearful
Every night
Of her Father
Attacking her
Whenever the opportunity
Came about
Crying because
There was
Nothing she
Could do

Caring

The little girl
Takes a seat
Next to the man
And cries

Here is the balloon
She says
And cries

The man looks at the balloon
It is white, crumpled, lack of string
But what he sees
Is not this

But the smile on
The little girls face

Because he cared.

As this

I just
Sat there
And stared
At him for
Two weeks
Before I thought



Oh No



What had
Happened in
The space
Of that time
Was as surreal

As this.