Ghosts of children never Bore
Never carried in womb or core
Of womanhood I never felt
The heartbeat of another soul.. a precious baby of my own never held.
Too old now to reminisce or contemplate on that or this or what might've been or even hate the pretend dad & what he did
In dark of night he thought he was hid
But God's light saw what he did
I know, he knows and so does my real & only Father ... and so the story goes.
A tale told by more than we Know..
It's a pain we carry from then on ..
Some survive, some do not, some walk around only half alive.. hating life
My fake daddy murdered me when I was 3 with sober fingers surprisingly.. burned my feet with Marlboro lights
I never let him see me cry
It's been 50 years
I still sleep with a light ..
I write poetry about him- I wish he knew
I've been published based upon his abuse..
© Kimberly S Wenz 10/18/22
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