I am the momentary silence,
I am the aftermath of violence,
I come to numb the pain.
I am the picture frame, of your life.
The fear is closing all the doors,
These scars are prisoners of war.
The shame is like none you’ve known before.
How could this be a part of me you say?
Why did I let it go this way?
Where was my angel in disguise?
The tears that burn inside these eyes.
Don’t hate; the world is not your crutch.
Don’t wait; time only heals so much.
Trust; a word I rarely use.
Child; she was abused.
Let it heal; the pain was real.
Each day you try to feel.
Each time you open up your book;
Each time you take a closer look;
You find the healing’s started.
Believe in yourself;
You’re not Yesterdays child.
(This poem was written at age 16 years old and published first in 2002 then again in 2005)