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Look Past the Exterior to the Interior Where the Truth Lies

A slam poem

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Look Past the Exterior to the Interior Where the Truth Lies
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Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the World”… you attempt to serenade me as you judge me. Scrutinizing a monster veiled behind falsified indiscretion. A crucifixion long since forgotten, in the dreams stolen by nightmares of chance. A ripping of innocence. Waiting…on a lions roar. Would you have thought me odd as I was craving sanction beneath the floor, trying desperately to pull at memories, a park a beach a heaven; anything to steal me out of this horroring-mare of time and space. Eyes, so like my own. Shushing me with promises of pain, if I were to scream…Some kind of white substance splashed upon my face, dripping down as if snowflakes landing on my eyelids. Perhaps, the pain would have given a way out. But mother’s tears as I lay ten feet under, had become enough for my raped silence...So. Go ahead and call me the monster. Scream with your signs held high, until your voice runs dry from your condemning tone. Please; for the sake of sanity gauge your eyes out, to turn blind upon MY slaughter. … Will you still condom me now? Your photographs of little hands and sweet little toes carried over with, “They’re all precious in His sight, Jesus loves the little children”, to bring the guilt crashing upon me. You have given me a one way ticket as the child killer, monster of innocence, to the deepest darkest layers of Hell. Where was that ticket when my innocence started twisting into a nightmare among dreams? Where were your accusations of monster as my father shattered his daughter’s childhood turning fairytales into blackened bows of lace? Where were you when a child lost her toys, as motherhood became apparent? Would you have accused my mother the monster, as she tried to piece what childhood I had left? Would you have shouted killer as a little girl with pigtails solemnly stepped out those doors after having a silver monster devour his doing?...I was not dealing with an unwanted expense. I was no nightwalker who was careless, nor a partier who saw this as a form of protection.

I am no monster who took an innocent life.

I used to be innocent.

I was only ten.

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