Broken China Doll

Lovely little china doll,
Sitting pretty,
Oh so sweet, oh so delicate.
With your wide eyed innocence and piggy tails,
Perfect smile, unblemished.

Lovely little china doll,
Perched atop the shelf,
Plucked off your seat now,
Plunged into terror.

Little toy made of china clay,
Here he plays with you,
On the ground he flings you,
In those dreaded hands, he bends you.

Your pretty little dress,
With a blade, he rends it to shreds,
On the ground he perverses you,
There he tramples you,
There he breaks you, there he grinds you.

Perfect pretty little thing,
Now you douse in mud,
Now you rinse in his filth,
Now you suffer the beatings,
Now you are tortured in pain.

His mocking laugh,
His putrid breath,
His tombstone teeth,
His jagged sneer,
His slimy tongue,
His defiling fingers,
Manhood. Depravity.

Now you are a broken plaything,
You wished that you could cry,
Your voice scream in silence,
Your eyes bore no tears.
Flung against the wall,
Crushed and pretty no more.

Can we mend you with some glue?
It will never be the same.
The scars you will bear for life,
Endure the lasting shame.

Bruised, used, confused....

Trauma,
You dare not to play anymore,
You will trust to love nevermore.
Your world will be in hurt, shame and hate.
For the shadow of him, that monster,
Who have left you this fate.

Proseac: My little piece on child sexual abuse.