I feel dreadful

my heart is cold and empty,

my soul appears to have left


and I don’t feel bereft of it

at the edge is it necessary?

What is in the growing fear, yawning grave

breaking my ears with tears

and leaving me open

to my fears of

inadequacy, vulnerability

and hatred for the one I am.


I feel a vacuum growing

in my emptiness

and no one seems to notice that I

am outside, offers a kind word or two.

But, I slog on like a broken ass,

hating the very things I used to love.

Looking for a way to grow a staying soul,

a sacred heart,

that something,

something good,

will be mine

this side

of the

stifling soil.





She felt that pain where he had been

and did not know the words for what

he had done.

She only knew that she was bleeding,

broken and bewildered.

Pushed to the margins

by a monster,

thrust to the edge

by an evil beyond words.


Adults spoke words like,

horror, hospital, stitching, child bearing

while her mind had stopped,

and a grey mist took her.


A life sentence was hers

and he went to jail,

for a part of his

pushed to the margins by

his crime,

but easy with his own

society of depravity.


#metoo is easy to write.

To live with a reoccurring

nightmare of fear,

guilt undeserved

and dislocation

worthy of a medal,

worthy of honour

worthy of applause

takes courage,

but often unrecognised


for the words

to explain

are always beyond

the child.