Posted: December 19, 2012 in So called Poetry, Thoughts

The dark dirty floor of the lonely shedsad-umit-ozkanli
she still remember, no matter what.
The agony as every piece of clothing she had
was getting torn off in fast, tortorous motions. 
And that sweaty, rough hand covering her
mouth as she tried to scream for help. 
The help that never came.
And she screamed despite
the sweaty hand over her mouth 
Her hopes and dreams were over, 
shattered, torn and burned.

The pain was something never felt before, 
it wasn’t the cuts, bruises nor the slaps. 
This pain would never go away or heal.
Then as if time stood still 
She lay wondering what they would think.
She tried so hard to get herself to safety
but she was weak  for every move she made 
felt like the world was crashing, no escapade.

At that moment she prayed that she would die. 
For to live a life with this pain and wound
that would never heal was unbearable. 
As she stopped screaming she thought she had died
The pain was still there but a numbness had arise. 
As she looked up she realized the torture was over 
But she lay there trying to figure out why this all 
happened, and why it had happened to her. 

To this day there isn’t a moment when she
don’t think about that day in the lonely shed. 
The pain and suffering still lurks in her head. 
It isn’t forgotten and never will be, 
for that is how It’ll always be.

But she’s strong willed and determined for she
have this life, and she know she have to live
stronger every day, leaving things behind.
Looking in their eyes, making a statement
no matter what, whatever you may try
I’ll live a life, challenging, bigger and bright.

But no one should feel that way.
No one should cause that pain
For that pain lasts a life time.


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