Anonymous

Hi Susan, I wish to remain anonymous please. I am 17 and a victim of abuse.
I was raped by a priest I trusted and loved. I do not call myself a survivor because I don't think I have survived. I battle everyday to go on with my life and it is not a struggle I am confident I can win. One day I hope to call myself a survivor of abuse.
As I am sure you can relate, each day I battle with my faith. I find it so hard not to blame God when the person who stole my life was a "holy man". I want desperatly to have someone to trust and love like God, but I suppose I am not at that point in my life. Forgiveness is not one of my strong qualities.
I just wanted to say thankyou though. I stumbled upon your site a while ago and finally decided to write to you. Through all the things posted on your website I am beginning on the long journey to closure, if there is such a thing. After reading all the beautiful poems on your website I decided, when I am upset, instead of having a destructive hobby, I would write. Here is one of my poems. There are many, many more that I can send you if you wish.
Thanks for listening and God Bless.

The little girl in the mirror that I see, She cries out in pain and misery.
She’s all alone with no one to hold,
Things always get better, or so she’s told.

The little girl in the mirror that I see, Has a blank expression continuously.
She has a hollow look on her face,
And as for a smile there is no trace.
Only the shadows of what once was felt,
Emotions and feelings with which she dealt.

The little girl in the mirror that I see, Has scars and bruises internally.
Her throat hurts from the silent screams, Which seem to release in her horrible dreams.
In the mourning she is tired from her sleepless night, During the day, to stay awake she must struggle and fight.

The little girl in the mirror that I see, Has her heart locked up and there is no key.
Her own reflection she doesn’t even recognize, And even if she did, she would only just criticize.
If she said she was happy with her life it would be a lie, Hold on, keep going… it’s too much hurt, why try?

The little girl in the mirror that I see, Is wearing a fake mask constantly.
It’s much harder to explain to others anyway, It’s easier to just smile and walk blindly through the day.
She’s sick of the thoughts always running through her mind, She wishes they were happy instead of the destructive kind.

My heart goes out to the lost soul in the mirror that I see, I wish for her heart, mind, and body to be completely free.
Oh, wait… the little girl is me.