Trigger Warning: This article, or pages it links to, may contain information about sexual molestation and child abuse, which may be triggering to survivors.


I remember when

Those little brown lumps of play dough

On my chest

Became breasts.


I remember my mind and body

Being in disconnect because I wasn’t really awake yet,

Yet, I felt this weight on my chest

As he slithered his hand into my nightgown,

Ripping through my innocence

Dragging my body into womanhood

As his hands molded my little

Brown lumps of play dough

Into breasts.

He grasped my breasts

Bouncing them in his rough hands

As if they belonged to him.

As if I belonged to him.

He pulled my breasts out of my nightgown

Leaving my nipples exposed

Had his hands creeping through a “no man’s land”

But body still be in man’s hands.

With my eyes still closed

Had him thinking I was sleeping

But mind be too aware to be asleep

And body be too numb to get up

Body be too stuck

To get out of this shit-uation.

Body be prey to his predator.

Mind be praying for protection.

Hands by slithering into body’s Garden of Eden

Mind forgets reason, eyes open, I see him.

I see my Grandpa.

I recognized his eyes, his beard, his nose, his face.

But I didn’t recognize this man.

I had seen who he really was

For the first time in my ten years of life.

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Mind and body be prey to Grandpa.

Grandpa’s hand be a serpent that slithers.

Grandpa’s touch be a venom that kills.

Mind and Body be in a disconnect.

Body be woman, so body be saved for later

Mind be child, so child be slayed

As innocence is ripped away.

Nine years later,

Woman be blooming and

Child be decayed.

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