Category: Writers Block
The Torment That Held The Little Child Locked In A Fear of Not Coming To Gripes With What Had Happened In The Past Is Finally Faced……….Little Child within, broken in body and crumbled in spirit. Little Child locked away and forgotten yet forlorn you have remained as hidden from view and never shared with in conversation…always always hidden away. Little Child from a far distant past, here take my hand, I know your pain for it is mine, the one I was with you in that torment of yesterdecades…. Yes, remember do I the pain that was always kept secret and locked away deep deep within, never sharing always hiding. Remembering the gravitation towards long sleeves for arms and legs most always held for a period in time a dozen bruises…. Bruises that were thot normal for well, they were always present, ever lingering. As healing would come then too new bruises added and it was learned of The Little Child to answer “correctly” to The Tormentors questions, never minding if the answer were a lie or not for all that mattered in the mist of the beatings was that the lashes of The Tormentors leather belt would cease to be pelted upon that Little Child. Then came that morning so dreadful when not with The Tormentors belt The Tormentor lashed out but rather with those arms, so strong from work that daily would The Tormentor toil at, those arms so strong picked up a razor strap and beat The Little Child so severely that the questions could not ither be heard/understood or too the wailing so great that no answers cold get out from inside that Little Child…..therefore the beating went on till The Tormentors anger subsided, well for a few moments anyhow and again some questions…..only thing is that somewhere in the midst of the lashes received so too came a brief comfort, for taken away to some other place where no pain could be felt for consciousness lost. Did the Little Child know how to give response, a definite NO! and in the Tormentor’s rage the lashing anew became once again till all anger of the Tormentor had subsided and the Little Child was finally released to face a new day… The Little Child still gasping for air in between a few remaining sobs chooses clothing of the day…..long sleeves of course. The welts on arms and legs so warm to the touch, so much hurt but the hurt hidden and the Little Child had to go on…..in silence.