Child Abuse, You're Sick

You don't understand what it's like,
To be touched and touched again and again.
You ask for it to stop,
Demaning "no" never reaches his head.
You pray each night for it to end,
For the painful cold hands to go away,
And stop the hurt.
But it doesn't happen.
After awhile, the hope disapears.
The tears become familiar.

You violated me.
And all I ever wanted was for an apoligy.
For you to get help,
For your sick mind and disgustingly dirty hands.
I can still feel them on me.
Touching me.
Grabbing me.
Pulling at me.
I still am haunted by the words you spoke.
"Trust me, I'll love you forever."
I think of your face.
And how you looked at me each time.
As you zipped up your pants
And smiled from corner to corner.
You used to feel all over my body.
Every night I cried.

I'll never get my childhood back.
Or the innocence that was taken.
I'll never be able to talk about my "first time".
You stole my pride.
Eventually,
I got so used to you touching me.
That I didn't cry anymore.
I layed there,
Emotionless.

One day you stopped touching me.
One day you stepped away.
At first I wondered if you had a new doll,
Or learned from your old ways.
Then I saw a change in my brother.
His smile began to fade.
You're a sick little bastard.
You touched me.
And then him.

I'm glad I had the strength,
To pull away from you.
I'm glad I reported your sick ass.
And you're locked up.
How does 25 to life sound?
Do you feel like a man now?

I've gained back my pride.
And I've gained back my smile.
I've reached the point where you can't touch me anymore.
I don't have to wish for it to end.
And I don't cry every night.
But there's things I'll never get back,
From all those misty nights.