Broken dolls

Broken Dolls Faces expressionless, eyes staring wide Delicate porcelain, with cracks yawning inside. Under the layers of cover we find Spider webs criss crossing even the mind. Creatures so beautiful, mutilated why so Why is it so often your life blood does flow? How can it be that it eases your pain? How can you do it again and again? When you spoke in soft whispers explaining to me And I looked past the whys to the roots of the tree I faltered and fumbled, words trying to find To allay the thoughts running loose in my mind. Then Tabetha, Susan, Jackie and Kay, Oh Lord how my heart cried that terrible day When it dawned on me why, not the hows and wherefores But the whys of the acts of destruction performed. It’s a cleansing, a release, it breaks down the guilt That’s instilled by the perpetrator-always so skilled In making a secret so sacred from sin The sin is transferred to the victim within Be it father, or uncle, visitor, or friend, It all comes together the same in the end Introduced sometimes as pleasure, often as pain And they come in the dark, again and again. Innocent babies become as porcelain dolls, So fragile to look at, so lovely to hold They break, oh so easily, these victims of lust No wonder they don’t understand the word trust Written December 15th, 2001 © on Dec 15 2001 09:04 AM PST, Patricia Rosenberg   0 • 9