Poem to my abuser

you sick and twisted prick
so wasted you cant even lift your dick
without the help of a child whore
who could turn a trick at age 4
you look in the mirror asshole
and wonder who has your soul
you pray to the devil
find life in a bottle
place little hands upon your throttle
seeking foreplay from a small child
do that thing you do when your wild
you dont want to know my thoughts fucker
as i play the leach, your cocksucker
a childs fantasy while giving head
is something close to you being dead
what would happen if i bit right through
and took a piece right off of you
you taught me not to fear blood coming out
and if it was yours
i promise i wouldnt shout
you’d be too embarrassed to even tell
you lost control of your bitch, oh well
let me tie you up for once and leave you for days
drug you up with some unknown chemical haze
distort your memories with hallucinations
is it a deal
your stories so unbelievable that nobody will see them as real
in a childs fantasy she’s no longer the victim its true
but thats what you denied all along didnt you?

Author: manyofus1980

I am a woman in my mid 30's. I'm blind and I have dissociative identity disorder, I also have complex PTSD. I blog about my life with these disorders. I live in Ireland.

12 thoughts on “Poem to my abuser”

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