It’s torture everyday, there can be no running away. Time is my enemy all the hours all the days. Up the stairs at night but no sleep tight. I will bleed I will cry, I will feel like it might make me die. No one will see or hear. The night will tear me up. So I travel some place else, my mind a transporter from this hell. Separate now from life and myself, the only way I can survive. Fear and aloneness are my constant friends each one bound up in my hands. Invisible child of the so called family. What is that ? A prison of dread.I listen to the hands of the clock did I really live through that ? There are no words for this savagery you will feel, so deep it takes your breath, raw and ragged pain. Make it stop make it rain ! Familial abuse in every street, now on lock down growing like a weed inside the home. We are going to have to pull it out with our hands and let the children run wild and free and don’t you dare label. Look look look at the trauma caused, small lives suffocated with trauma. There is fire and longing and desire, aching and tears and a scream to be seen. A scream to be BELIEVED. Answer the call it’s an emergency waiting to break . The children being abused in lock down.
