through the years


five years old, the earliest memory of blood 
staring with curiosity almost forgetting   
the torture of his hands invading, a child 
young yet he thirst her innocence. 
ten years old, barely hanging on to hope 
she waited for a hero to bring her home 
staring at the ceiling as he thrust, choking 
her slowly into a state of shock. 
fifteen years old, she screams raging wars 
presented with solutions for dealing with 
her pain in disbelief she thought why now, 
why now they come to take her home? 
twenty years old, now fighting for her soul 
they say she is damaged, moving on 
the pity they hold in their stares, she knows 
her life she puts back in her control. 
twenty-five years old, striving to be whole 
failed to destroy the little girl 
collecting the pieces she rebuilt 
through the battle came a beautiful woman.


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