For a child,
I had quiet dreadful memories of a lot of things.
First I remember mommy being beaten black and blue by daddy,
All the time, he enjoyed it.
She was his dump can,
A place he'll come to dump his frustration,
Sexually, mentally, and financially.
I just cried at a corner, with pleading eyes and choking sobs, as he pounded mama; physically and sexually; yes I saw it all.
Came home one day, saw her packing up, in a suitcase so large,
She said she'll be back,
I said no " I'm coming with you"
She said no, wait for me, I'll be back.
Oh, momma never even left, a gun to her head, with her dead body lying cold, was all she needed to have peace, and she got it, and I saw.
"You will no longer sleep in this room, your step mum and brothers are moving in, go to the basement"
Those were the words of my father, "the basement".
Oh dear basement,
Where my innocence was taken,
By my father and step brothers.
Oh dear basement,
Where I also lost my life.
If will be found, If I wouldn't,
I'm in the basement.
©DIDDIE☕
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