Cobwebs

*Trigger warning* A child's memories of a predator. This is my voice.

You took
You told me not to tell
I told
My tiger would eat the bad man
My imagination was wonderful
My stories so creative
The years went by
My voice drowning memories
I hid you away
Your fingers
Fat
Oil
Dirt
Filth
Your words
Soft
Sickly warm
Rancid candy
A friendly warning
I told
Patchwork words
Hand sewn fairy tales
Put away
In the closet of my mind
Where cobwebs paint dandelions in poppy fields

Reviews

[Unspoken poet]

Patchwork words
Hand sewn fairy tales
Put away
In the closet of my mind
Where cobwebs paint dandelions in poppy fields

Such marvellous words here, makes one think, this is quite intriguing

[Cherrie Palmer]

Writing is Power-
Your voice can give aid and strength to those who need it most.

[Miss Sharon]

Very nicely written! I love it from start to finish. ~Sharon

[John the Baptist]

One must wonder if predators realize the damage they are leaving, and if so, do they care. In this sparely worded work, you can see vividly the toll such an experience has taken on the speaker. Some scars never fade entirely.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

some fairy tales have very unhappy everafters---

and memories are like jawbreakers so hard they break the heart over and over...
No matter how much we try to hide those predators, they still peek out from the closet...where the monsters
lie in wait.
j.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

A very haunting piece as should be considering the reason behind it. I too am haunted by abuse, though not anywhere as vile in nature as what you endured. What I find difficult through this process of accepting what happened is the realization that I didn't fully mature properly in my psyche. There are pieces of my mind that are still that broken little boy. And once in a while I see him looking at me through a mirror and I still talk to him. Not just to comfort or alleviate his fears, but to remind him that he's still alive and with me. Thank you for sharing this truthful piece of yourself in these words of your poem.

[N E. Chase]

Thank you for allowing me to hear your voice.