I’m not in the business of shaming,
But if you come at me – there is only you to be blaming,
Being a survivor is not an identifier,
But being told to remain silent is a sin,
Should signs not be put up to warn people of the dangers of a vacant sewer cap?
Why not can I then share my stories of pain,
With those around,
Perhaps healing will be found,
I feel bad when I hurt another,
Even if it is my perpetrator,
I have a heart my brother says,
How do I express myself honestly and share my stories successfully without showing the creatures around me for being as dark as a soul can get – cannot forget.
I always hear people say, hey he wasn’t that bad.. right? I mean we are all three dimensional.
So let him babysit your kids and see
So you like him – I get it – so you love him – make me sick, nah forget it
Evil is an interesting thing, tangible and real… as he gropes for a feel
To murder a child is bad
To a rape a woman is … sad? I’m sure it’s her fault – even if she was five, six, seven, eight…
At what point does the evil own the mistake
At what point do I ever become free – or is this nightmare to always follow me
Like Big bird’s best friend – this evil, only I can see