Oh,those recurring memories, the painfulness of it all:
Remembering all those moments those times when I was small
Terrifying trying moments when I was just a little child
Shielding myself from the abuser: her angry-ness gone wild
It didn't seem to matter that my hands were small and frail
Her lashes knew no mercy and her outbursts would prevail
The least bit sign of upset and I'd be on the floor
The recipient of her outbursts till I could take no more...
Day by day this would happen and I would keep it all inside
Though my siblings chose to run and tell the world outside
Something inside me quivered and I'd silence myself in shame
I became the silent sufferer submerged beneath her flame...
It's hard to take the welcome, the outreach or the hug
Without seeing the floor below me, the memories of the rug
So often the hands that touched me would tear my lips and skin
And it's only the grace of God that has opened me up again..