A poem about abuse flashbacks...

Into the Fray

Pain, sharp and breathless
fight for air
untouched but violated
all over again
with no one near
Sounds and smells
invade with pain
the hated feel of being filled
held down, terrified
with the old tastes rising
mixed with the bile
of the present lie
the ghost of the old horror
When it passes
left bereft of will
destroyed in a pool
of fluids, of blood from bitten tongue
as reality, the oldest lie
crawls back up
on shaking legs
These moments
as the soul, the sanity
begin to fray
there is no defense
no succor
as today is eclipsed
and drowned in yesterday

~ ~ ~

W.R.R. 11/19/2012
_________________________
- W.R.R.
@AsAshesScatter
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