Her Shattered World

The place she sat was her space.
He blackened her idyllic boundary.
She couldn't move, she didn't understand
why her space no longer held butterflies.
Now it held demon hands
grasping and clawing, creeping and crawling.
No children's playground lived there,
just a devil horse, red-eyed, rearing up, running her down,
leaving her screaming.

Her voice barely reached the edge of her world.
The outside knowing nothing
of the violation, the destruction
of the space she called her own.
She now belonged to fear,
shaken, lost and confused.
He had come with that smile, deceit in his eyes,
that had once looked at her across the table,
not evil, not twisted then.

A world that sees nothing still exists.
Her mother turned her back, ignored the devil.
He resided within her sight, lived there.
Each tear cried, a slow and painful death,
being hung a little at a time.
She wanted at last to be dead.
She wanted at last for it to stop.
Her mind sunk downwards into a well of his making,
dark, dank with sides, steep and unclimbable.

How does a child survive her broken world?
She broke the silence, the scream cried out past the barrier.
Why? If then betrayed by those who discovered.
Those she loved, all faded from sight like shadows.
She was alone in the silence.
The world was deaf.
The world was blind.
They turned their backs and left her
in her shattered world.


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A child’s experience of abuse...