abuse

It didn’t rhyme

I wrote a poem once and it didn’t rhyme

I thought I didn’t know how to write

It was only later that I realized what I had written

It was not enveloped in those phony words

It did not show the struggle of changing lines to match

What I had written… was raw

And I did this because what happened to me was raw

Because the only words which rhymed with my fear were Near and Dear

Like my predator

There was no rhythm in his hands when he groped me

There was only hurry

For me fury rhymed with hurry.

Or so I thought because that was the closest emotion for which I could find a word for

He knew my fears because he was near… and dear

It pained me at places I never knew could hurt so bad.

Though as a consolation he used to brush my hair in the end

I always cried when I wanted something bad.. be it a toy or a chocolate..

But for the first time I cried because I didn’t want.. what you were giving me.. DAD

See it rhymed there.. Bad and Dad.. Like my fear.. Near and Dear..

 

When I read that poem again

I had flashbacks of that pain.

At that time I hated myself because I did not know what to say

And now when I found the courage to write

I hated myself because I didn’t know that perfect line.

I hated myself because I didn’t know how to make my struggle RHYME…

 

 

PS: Image credit google : thequint.com

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