London Bound

When did Mother begin
To blame her troubles on her?
Mother's youngest child sits alone
Wishing she were anywhere else.
Twenty-two and still scared,
Haunted by the thoughts of her
Not so distant past.
Sleep is a stranger to the young woman,
Unable to attain such bliss.
The yelling and cursing
In the next room
Brings her back to memories
Of events best left forgotten.
"Please don't hurt me,"
"Adam, let me go!"
"Why are you smiling?
Can't you see what you've done?"
Her memories mock her.
The hours spent crying;
Caged like an animal,
Dependent on its captor.
The numbing feeling takes over
As her tears subside.
Friends in England say,
"Come here! We have room."
Others in New York and L.A.
Say the same.
As much as she wishes,
How would she pay
To be anywhere but here?

The arguing has died down,
so the memories that
Plagued her have too.
Her happy place is one of
The past:
A swing on the local playground,
The innocence of the activity reminded
Her of carefree times,
Before experiencing any heartbreak or intangible pain,
Manipulation or tragedy;
Rape or abuse.
The sick, sad cruelty of the world hadn't
Been introduced to her.
When it was, though,
Her world fell apart.
Nowhere felt like home,
Not even the swing set.
Until she arrived in London
One summer.
Those were the best two weeks
Of her post-innocent life.
Since her return to the States,
She has wished to be
London-bound.