Pandora's Box

This present darkness that is filling me

These deadly dreams won't let me be

Living dreams, dying hope

An empty life no way to cope

There is no wrong; no black or white I see

I am just a living tragedy

Drifting farther in a world of gray

Maybe I'll change, but who's to say?

Visions of the ones who could not love

They sneered at my tears as they spilled my blood



Locked away in a world of despair

Look in my eyes; see only emptiness there

Can't you see what your abuse has brought?

This legacy of me these beatings have wrought

Send me away to save yourselves

Beaten as a child my life's rotting on a shelf

These crimes I've done, what is there to forgive?

Is my punishment to die, or am I sentenced to live?



(epilogue)

Looking out across the river

In this place I've been sent to stay

My life's becoming clearer

My skies no longer tainted gray



It's amazing how I feel this way

I never thought there could be so much more

Now I'm looking through excited eyes

So much of life to be explored



With you by my side



Take me back to my own life

Now that I've learned how to live

Let these tears flow down my face

And share this love that I've learned to give



With you by my side

With love by my side

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is based on a true story of a little girl named Cat (Catherine).  She was abused by her father as a small child and, at the age of 9, had no concept of right or wrong.  Her foster family, who she wanted (and tried) to kill, sent her to a clinic that dealt with disturbed children.  The change in her was miraculous.  It was like she was a completely different person.  After watching the HBO documentary (which later became a CBS TV movie) "A Child of Rage", I was so moved by her story that I wrote this piece.

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artist60164's picture

Well you have certainly got some dark inner demons (as do we all) Keep writing! Great work with lots of passion.
Jeanne

stustaub's picture

A fantastic rendering of that documentary. "Can't you see what your abuse has wrought?" feels like the bitterly poignant center of this, I think; because, either the abuser is not aware of how much damage they do, or they don't care. Neither is acceptable. The plunder of innocence. All the more horrific because of its common presence.