Seven Years Old

dark poem about abuse

She was only seven
when it happened the first time.
He picked back up his bottle of gin
and settled in for the night.
She was so young and did not know
what would be set in motion
when daddy tucked her in that night
and took her special token.

She soon could see it in his eyes,
and could predict it in his voice
that it would be one of those nights
where daddy chose to destroy,
to destroy his little girl to shreds
and not bother to pick her back up.
These nights seemed to last forever,
but his daughter wouldn't give up.

As she got older she started to blame it
on all the drugs and alcohol.
She knew it clouded his judgement,
thought he could be good after all.
He went into a program,
and she kept their dark secret safe.
She lived in a foster home for a few months,
and expected daddy to change.

She expected a new daddy
to come home all sobered up.
A daddy who would not touch his daughter
because he was not doped up.
But her fate was already set in motion
and when she moved back in,
her father had the nerve to touch
his little ten year old daughter again.

By then her heart started to harden
and she didn't know what to do,
and when he went back out
she didn't know if she could make it through.
She wouldn't allow girl friends over
because she knew they were not safe;
they had a chance to get away
from her fathers sickening taste.

But as a teen, a friend came over
to see if she was home from school.
She stayed late at the library,
and her father played her friend for a fool.
Later that week her friend told her
what wretched thing her father had done,
and she knew she had no other choice
but to grab her gun.

She was only sixteen years old
when she was sentenced to life in prison.
She couldn't believe what he had done
and so she made a decision.

She killed him,
just as he had killed her innocence.
She killed him,
just as he killed her dreams, her ambivalence.
She killed him,
just as he had killed all her joy in life.
She killed him,
just as he had killed her friend that night.

And when she was sentenced,
she was not regretful for what she did,
even though her friend had taken back
all the abuse accusations.
She wasn't looking for sympathy,
she wasn't looking for someone to care.
She had given up on that concept
for many, many years.

She killed him to let him know
he couldn't get away with it.
She killed him to let him know
he would have his consequence.
She killed him to let him know
what it was like to be hurt,
so he would know what it's like to scream
and have no one be alert.

She was seven years old,
young and bright eyed,
innocent to the world and trusting
the only man in her life.
She was young and malleable,
and she was shaped into hate.
She had no other outlet,
no way to escape.

Author's Note

Let me know what you think.

Reviews

[Sacha Davison]

"saw" in the first line of the second stanza should be "see"

The man in this poem deserves to relive his demise a thousandfold and then some. No one should be so evil, so twisted to damage such an innocent, precious child so brutally. It is a revolting fact that the legal system persecutes these victims for smutting out their oppressors from existence.

My favourite segment of this piece :
She was young and malleable,
and she was shaped into hate.

I found this a very well crafted part of a very well crafted poem. Great work!

[taboo.poet]

thank you :)

[Edward]

A very strong bone chilling piece of writing nice work

[Andie]

This was sad, but so beautiful. It was able to hold my attention very well. Good job.

[Coyote Poetry]

A very and sad poem. Death was too good for a man who rape a child. The story was strong and you held my attention to the last word. No weakness in the excellent poem.
Coyote

[taboo.poet]

thank you