Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/555692-1951
by hippo
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #555692
My experience of child abuse.
He tells me I'm his Princess
I am his precious pearl,
He gives me sweets and presents
I'm his very special girl.
He tells me to keep our secret
I must never tell,
'Cos if I do and they find out
He says I'll go to hell.
But I don't want to go to Hell
I want to go to Heaven,
I want to be where angels live
Because I'm only seven.

My mummy says I must be good
And go with Uncle Don,
He's known me since I was born
He loves me as his own,
But mummy doesn't know
When I go out with him,
He takes me to his friend's house
His friend is Uncle Jim.
Uncle Jim has got a cat
He has a hampster and a rat,
A fluffy rabbit in a hutch
I like them all, very much.

He has a really nice bedroom
Filled with dolls and toys,
Some are specially for girls
And some are there for boys.
The room is very white
With just a bed and chair,
I sit on Uncle Don's lap
So he can brush my hair.
Sometimes they take my clothes off
And kiss and touch my skin,
I honestly don't like it
But I like my Uncle Jim.

Today Uncle Jim got undressed too
And he put me on the bed,
He made me touch his boy-thing
As he stroked my head.
Uncle Don was taking pictures
And making a funny noise,
I don't like what they're doing
I'd rather play with toys.
Uncle Jim and Uncle Don
Are very nice to me,
But I don't want to play with them
I want to go home for my tea.


I'm twenty-seven years of age
And have just found out they're dead,
The men who did those things to me
Whilst they stroked my head.
Now there's nothing stopping me
From telling what went on,
With Uncle Jim, when I was young
And Dad's friend Uncle Don.

I sat my Father in a chair
Told him the best I could,
Details of secret meetings
At the house in Shepherds Wood.
My Dad was silent as I talked
Tears fell down his cheeks,
He was so dumbfounded
He just couldn't speak.

He put his arms around me
Giving comfort, being strong,
He cried, I sobbed, for ages,
I do not know how long.
After we were all cried out
We talked about this crime,
Dad told me Jim and Don had died,
In prison serving time.

He said that men in prison
Have a special code of living,
To rob, even murder, was OK
Crimes against a child, forbidden.
In solitary confinement
They should have been quite safe,
But somehow retribution
Found them in that place.

The details of what happened
The authorities won't tell,
But I know I'll go to Heaven
And they will go to Hell.


Fifty years on and the scars are still there,
A reminder each time I brush my hair.
The memory dulls as the years tumble by,
But I'll only be free on the day that I die.

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