deepundergroundpoetry.com
God Help Me
God help me. . .
. . .From this raw feeling between my legs of where he impaled me with his flesh, as he held me down, my wrists tied together with the leather strap of his belt. I was pushed down on my bed after being humiliated with the task of being forced to give this man fellatio, on my knees like a cheap whore. I kneel before this man that assumed the role of father figure in my life though he was not my father, (my father was dead to me and this man could not step in and take his place) this man was not anything but a monster. He pulled me back up to my feet and then pushed me onto my back and onto my bed. (It hurts to recall this all), tied at my wrists by his belt, he undid his breechs and then leans over me, my clothes that I had been wearing torn from my body-- This body isn't sacred, hasn't been for a long time, it has been manipulated by everyone but still this doesn't mean it's open for anyone who wants to use it-- and the ripping pain begins of being torn open by his sword of flesh. I am helpless underneath his weight, I am nothing anymore but a body of the shell that I use to be. The pain inside of me burns, please God make it stop, I did not want this to happen to me. His moans make me cry, I do not want this man inside of me, I do not want this man near me, out of all the things that have happen to me in my entire life, this is one of the worst things. I am not a child now, I am old enough to know that you are not allowed to do this, but I cannot say anything to anyone because no one will believe me. He wants me to look at him, he calls me beautiful and says that he loves me. . .
NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!
. . .God please. . .
. . . I did not want this, I never asked for this to happen. And now I am laying on my bed, a place where I sleep and dream of a better life then the one that I have been forced to live. And now I lay on this very bed in a pool of blood from being forced open by someone I did not want inside of me. I cannot move it hurts too much to move, it hurts and it bleeds-- There's so much blood, and I did not make myself bleed this time, I did make this blood appear, this is the worst kind of blood to see, this is the blood one sees when she has been held down by her pale, fragile frame, her hair held in a man grasp like the reins of a horse and controlled to allow his stake of flesh to be shoved, pushed, forced inside of me. And now I am curled into a ball, crying wanting to be held, wanting to be loved, wanting someone to care about me. Wanting anything but this cold life that I have been asked to face. Why God have you foresaken me, why have you done this to me? Why have you allowed this to happen?--
Oh God, he's back. . .
And the belt comes off. . .
My wrists are tied. . .
His pants are unbuttoned. . .
My legs are spread wide. . .
. . .And leaning over me, he pushes himself inside and I scream, even with his hand clamped over my mouth, I scream, even with the tears sliding down my cheeks, I scream. And I scream, and I scream, and I scream, and I scream. . . But no one hears me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . . God gave me this curse to be remotely alluring to the opposite and same sex but he cannot step up and say I made this mistake and that is why you are being raped by this man right now. He cannot admit he was wrong, and he cannot save me, instead he is like everyone I have ever met in my life, when things turn sour, when things turn bad, they leave, they turn the other way and they ignore what they are seeing. My mother did this when my father abused me, the school did this when my teacher molested me, my best friend did when those people broke my heart, my boyfriend did when I got the abortion, my friends did when I tried to kill myself, my husband did when I had the miscarriage, and God did it when my step-father raped me. . .
RAPE.
Why are most people so afraid to say the word?
I was raped.
Why is that so hard?
I was raped and the man got away with it.
Like most men do.
Why was I raped?
Is there a reason why?
Because I was pretty, because he loved me, because he wanted control, because he is a man, because I am weak, because I am crazy, because it would be funny.
Why did he rape me?
Why didn't anyone hear me scream?
Why didn't anyone see the blood?
Why didn't anyone hear me cry?
Why did this happen to me?
And why doesn't anyone care?
. . .And now I have to live with this, everytime I look in the mirror I see that girl sitting on the bed, shaking and crying wanting for someone to save her, someone to love her, someone to make all of the pain and misery go away. Where is my savior? Where is my God? Where are my friends? Where is my family? Why has everyone abandoned me? Why am I all alone?
God help help me. . .
. . .I'm not all alone, after those constant mid-day and nightly visits made by my step-father, after those minutes of pain that feel like hours in which my body rots underneath his body and my mind slowly devours itself as he whispers he loves me, after that happening night after night, I finally became sick and my mother stayed home and she was protecting me by being there for once and not allowing me to get hurt. I was taken to the doctor and the prognosis was given, I was not ill with the flu or any bodily sickness. I was plagued with pregnancy, a very disturbing outcome to this act of violence. The pain he inflicted on me became the child I was told (after the abortion) that I would never get to have. But still I cannot speak of the sin he commited and what he did to me, I can't speak of the misery he branded within my bed every night and every afternoon. I will be called a liar and shunned for the child inside of me. . .
. . . And now I continue my prayer to you my Lord, who has foresaken me and left me in this cold world to die, you do not want me to end my life but yet you make it even worse. You do not allow me to rest, someone is always hurting me, my stomach is always in knots, I am always shaking and now I am breaking down. I have never been allowed to be the victim because I am insane, I have never been allowed to be broken, because I am suicidal. I am not allowed to cry because I make my own pain. I am alone in this world, with no one to help me through these lies, I have been dead for years and years and years and my body is just realizing it now. I am not the perfect doll that I was made out to be, I am a manically depressed, pathetic, broken, suicidal girl who was raped, abused, molested and abandoned. There is no help for girls like me, there is no love for girls like me, there is no safety for girls like me. Hamlet said that best of safety lies in fear. Well that is all I have left in this world, I am faced with the thought everyday when I wake up, who will hurt me today? And will it be worse than the last thing? Will the voices ever stop screaming?! I am a whore, a filthy, dirty whore-- This is my fault that he did this, it wasn't rape, the voices says it was my fault, I am the wrong one. This is my fault, I asked for it-- I repent the sin and then commit the same crime, I have been raped and then I sleep with another man, just so I have a reason to say that I am pregnant. Allow me to protect the man that hurt me since no one will believe me anyway. I am the guilty one, and all I have to do is lay here and bleed, and cry and hate myself more and more as my life drags on. This is my fault, I am the blame. Allow me to be dragged to the center of the town and be stoned, there is no one to save me, there is no one to defend me. Not even God loves me anymore, he has abandoned me too. . .
. . .I have too much to lose by telling anyone the truth about what he did. No one needs to know, I will take it to my grave, no one will believe these words I write-- No one will believe my pain and my heart aches. . .
. . .No one will believe me. . .
. . .Oh God help me.
. . .From this raw feeling between my legs of where he impaled me with his flesh, as he held me down, my wrists tied together with the leather strap of his belt. I was pushed down on my bed after being humiliated with the task of being forced to give this man fellatio, on my knees like a cheap whore. I kneel before this man that assumed the role of father figure in my life though he was not my father, (my father was dead to me and this man could not step in and take his place) this man was not anything but a monster. He pulled me back up to my feet and then pushed me onto my back and onto my bed. (It hurts to recall this all), tied at my wrists by his belt, he undid his breechs and then leans over me, my clothes that I had been wearing torn from my body-- This body isn't sacred, hasn't been for a long time, it has been manipulated by everyone but still this doesn't mean it's open for anyone who wants to use it-- and the ripping pain begins of being torn open by his sword of flesh. I am helpless underneath his weight, I am nothing anymore but a body of the shell that I use to be. The pain inside of me burns, please God make it stop, I did not want this to happen to me. His moans make me cry, I do not want this man inside of me, I do not want this man near me, out of all the things that have happen to me in my entire life, this is one of the worst things. I am not a child now, I am old enough to know that you are not allowed to do this, but I cannot say anything to anyone because no one will believe me. He wants me to look at him, he calls me beautiful and says that he loves me. . .
NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!
. . .God please. . .
. . . I did not want this, I never asked for this to happen. And now I am laying on my bed, a place where I sleep and dream of a better life then the one that I have been forced to live. And now I lay on this very bed in a pool of blood from being forced open by someone I did not want inside of me. I cannot move it hurts too much to move, it hurts and it bleeds-- There's so much blood, and I did not make myself bleed this time, I did make this blood appear, this is the worst kind of blood to see, this is the blood one sees when she has been held down by her pale, fragile frame, her hair held in a man grasp like the reins of a horse and controlled to allow his stake of flesh to be shoved, pushed, forced inside of me. And now I am curled into a ball, crying wanting to be held, wanting to be loved, wanting someone to care about me. Wanting anything but this cold life that I have been asked to face. Why God have you foresaken me, why have you done this to me? Why have you allowed this to happen?--
Oh God, he's back. . .
And the belt comes off. . .
My wrists are tied. . .
His pants are unbuttoned. . .
My legs are spread wide. . .
. . .And leaning over me, he pushes himself inside and I scream, even with his hand clamped over my mouth, I scream, even with the tears sliding down my cheeks, I scream. And I scream, and I scream, and I scream, and I scream. . . But no one hears me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . .God help me. . .
. . . God gave me this curse to be remotely alluring to the opposite and same sex but he cannot step up and say I made this mistake and that is why you are being raped by this man right now. He cannot admit he was wrong, and he cannot save me, instead he is like everyone I have ever met in my life, when things turn sour, when things turn bad, they leave, they turn the other way and they ignore what they are seeing. My mother did this when my father abused me, the school did this when my teacher molested me, my best friend did when those people broke my heart, my boyfriend did when I got the abortion, my friends did when I tried to kill myself, my husband did when I had the miscarriage, and God did it when my step-father raped me. . .
RAPE.
Why are most people so afraid to say the word?
I was raped.
Why is that so hard?
I was raped and the man got away with it.
Like most men do.
Why was I raped?
Is there a reason why?
Because I was pretty, because he loved me, because he wanted control, because he is a man, because I am weak, because I am crazy, because it would be funny.
Why did he rape me?
Why didn't anyone hear me scream?
Why didn't anyone see the blood?
Why didn't anyone hear me cry?
Why did this happen to me?
And why doesn't anyone care?
. . .And now I have to live with this, everytime I look in the mirror I see that girl sitting on the bed, shaking and crying wanting for someone to save her, someone to love her, someone to make all of the pain and misery go away. Where is my savior? Where is my God? Where are my friends? Where is my family? Why has everyone abandoned me? Why am I all alone?
God help help me. . .
. . .I'm not all alone, after those constant mid-day and nightly visits made by my step-father, after those minutes of pain that feel like hours in which my body rots underneath his body and my mind slowly devours itself as he whispers he loves me, after that happening night after night, I finally became sick and my mother stayed home and she was protecting me by being there for once and not allowing me to get hurt. I was taken to the doctor and the prognosis was given, I was not ill with the flu or any bodily sickness. I was plagued with pregnancy, a very disturbing outcome to this act of violence. The pain he inflicted on me became the child I was told (after the abortion) that I would never get to have. But still I cannot speak of the sin he commited and what he did to me, I can't speak of the misery he branded within my bed every night and every afternoon. I will be called a liar and shunned for the child inside of me. . .
. . . And now I continue my prayer to you my Lord, who has foresaken me and left me in this cold world to die, you do not want me to end my life but yet you make it even worse. You do not allow me to rest, someone is always hurting me, my stomach is always in knots, I am always shaking and now I am breaking down. I have never been allowed to be the victim because I am insane, I have never been allowed to be broken, because I am suicidal. I am not allowed to cry because I make my own pain. I am alone in this world, with no one to help me through these lies, I have been dead for years and years and years and my body is just realizing it now. I am not the perfect doll that I was made out to be, I am a manically depressed, pathetic, broken, suicidal girl who was raped, abused, molested and abandoned. There is no help for girls like me, there is no love for girls like me, there is no safety for girls like me. Hamlet said that best of safety lies in fear. Well that is all I have left in this world, I am faced with the thought everyday when I wake up, who will hurt me today? And will it be worse than the last thing? Will the voices ever stop screaming?! I am a whore, a filthy, dirty whore-- This is my fault that he did this, it wasn't rape, the voices says it was my fault, I am the wrong one. This is my fault, I asked for it-- I repent the sin and then commit the same crime, I have been raped and then I sleep with another man, just so I have a reason to say that I am pregnant. Allow me to protect the man that hurt me since no one will believe me anyway. I am the guilty one, and all I have to do is lay here and bleed, and cry and hate myself more and more as my life drags on. This is my fault, I am the blame. Allow me to be dragged to the center of the town and be stoned, there is no one to save me, there is no one to defend me. Not even God loves me anymore, he has abandoned me too. . .
. . .I have too much to lose by telling anyone the truth about what he did. No one needs to know, I will take it to my grave, no one will believe these words I write-- No one will believe my pain and my heart aches. . .
. . .No one will believe me. . .
. . .Oh God help me.
Published 5th Sep 2011
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6th Sep 2011 1:50am
6th Sep 2011 2:29am
Rape is never the fault of the person raped. It's about control and power. It's not about love. Love doesn't rape. Love respects and doesn't manipulate or force itself on another human being.
Going through such an ordeal, once or repeatedly, isn't the end of the world. I can say this because I know.
Life can get better.
Going through such an ordeal, once or repeatedly, isn't the end of the world. I can say this because I know.
Life can get better.
14th Sep 2022 6:59am
Rape may not be your fault but the abortion is.
There are many options that you could have done instead of doing an ABORTION.
What I really don't seem to get is if you believe in God why would you have an ABORTION Then ask God for forgiveness that's just screwed
There are many options that you could have done instead of doing an ABORTION.
What I really don't seem to get is if you believe in God why would you have an ABORTION Then ask God for forgiveness that's just screwed
