Survivor Poem by Simon Willford

I could have screamed from the highest heavens

But no one would hear my cry
The loss of dignity, self worth and respect
And I was made to be alone

The pain will get the better one day
It is not an “if” it is a “when”

I put my trust in another man
Who went along, with
Manic wide eyed delusions of impending rapture

We sat on his sofa in a squalled dirty room
We opened the optic of forty percent proof whiskey

Next thing I was feeling strange
Asleep and then awake, something is wrong
And when I know what is going on he grins
And carries on, like I am not there

He was inside me for an hour

Next morning I told the M.E.T’s boys in blue
They told me that it was my fault
They refused to let me give a statement
They said I was crazy to believe him

But delusions are not part of reality
And at twenty- one, nor was I, I was quite ill

And on that day, the day of Pentecost
When I drew closer to putting my faith in God
I was sent to the darkest space in hell
Where no light, or hope or peace can ever be

The Devil was smiling too that night
That night I did see the Devil smile

But God is good
And I am not alone
No one should be alone
Or ever give up

My name is Simon, and I survived