blood soaked pages

Even wrinkled and crippled id still recognize your face eternally burned into my conscious and unconscious mind ,I bet you kept a memento rapists  frequent do so they can relive evermore . As I thumb through page after page coated in my very blood I remember an attempted escape pouring upon  my bed, and a stack of poetry books written before I came to be by people long since gone , one of them the mother of my mother . now yellowed and fragile, I run my fingers over the highlighted pain  of high school . stumbling upon the moment God became just another man.