Silhouette Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Silently sitting in the lobby of indecision, not knowing
how to proclaim the life I'm living.

Following inner feelings from one dimension to another,
allowing the pulling and twisting of turmoil to define
boundaries of each new day.

Silhouetting against the light of sadness, turning each
cheek so it may burn with the pain of abuse.

Fitfully portraying images, parading through doors,
left alone, they keep finding their way in nightmares
of blackest nights.

Telling no one, secretly living in hell, bent on self-
destruction so life may quit living here on earth.

Finding no reasons in the light of day or light of
wisdom and knowledge, abuse finds it's way into every
corner, playing the heartstrings of child-like
innocence.

Pounding out the childhood, given by God, filled with
the emptiness of satan's words.

Left alone to die inside, never being able to tell a
soul until much too late, way into the future,
remembered with age.

Funny how everything seems to fade when one gets old,
yet abuse filters through the years, standing stark
naked before your eyes, remembered just before death
takes it's last hold on one's life.

Nothing surpasses memories except the images of them
in the last moment we have on earth.