I Had a Fleece As White As Snow, a poem by Drem About Domestic Abuse

Talking about being abused is never easy. Admitting you’re a victim is hard. Being treated as a victim, or denied justice, takes it toll emotionally, spiritually, and physically. Even processing it in one’s own mind, reliving the hurt over and over again in flashbacks or nightmares , it’s like one’s own subconscious is against moving forward.

wpid-wp-1411748104077

I can’t forgive. But I want to forget. And my own mind acts as a big EFF YOU DREM and does what it wants when it wants. I have no control once more.
I hate talking about it. I go through therapists like tissues. I have really bad allergies so that says a lot. I hate thinking about it. I can’t escape it. Even my sleep deprives me of relief.

 

So, I write. I write and write and write. And though it doesn’t help me, it gives me something to do. It occupies my time. It allows me to think of something different even though I’m thinking of myself. It allows an existential perspective. I don’t think it helps but I do it. Maybe it can help you…

 

This work is one of many in a line of around 5 of this year that center around past abuse.

 

This is one of my more personal works. It’s my mom’s favorite.

 

Please like/share/comment so I know you’re listening. We are survivors.


 

I Had a Fleece as White as Snow, a poem by Drem

Written September 29th, 2015

“It’s not supposed to be dangerous.

Flames flicker.

You lick them

and you don’t burn.

You’re a monster

or a demon.

In my own mind

you’re a villain

who was once

just a boy

I never knew.

And now you hurt people.

And now you hurt me.

And now you cry louder

than the lightening

because I called you out.

But I can’t wipe away your toxic tears.

They’ll burn away my fragile fingertips

and sting, leave scars

that will seal a fictional fate with you

as my love drug dealer

attached around my neck, in my mouth forever.

It’s been so long…

but sometimes I want to see the boy

I thought you were.

To call you

and for you to pick up the phone

and for you to talk to me like you used to.

I don’t think you exist though.

At least not in the real world.

I don’t think there was ever truth.

I think you lied your way through

convincing a sick girl, me,

she was really safe with you.

Being with someone

is not supposed to be dangerous.

Flames flicker.

You eat them.

Fire gives you the rage,

the strength to go on for days

to burn more people,

hurt more women

and lie (to your own mother) and take.

To take another little lamb

who is stuck in a fence.

Act as her evil savior.

Trick her into thinking

she’s only worth something

if she is in your slowly tightening hands.

…Please God save her from him

for I’m too burnt

from his fire.

I can’t.”


7 thoughts on “I Had a Fleece As White As Snow, a poem by Drem About Domestic Abuse

      1. I really don’t even know what I was thinking that gave me the strength. Thinking back, I was at a turning point in my life when I wrote it. I was undergoing my first chemo treatment. I was all alone. No one who was supposed to be there was there for me. I was so afraid. And at that point I realized- I can not spend my life with someone who hurts me. I can not live my life with someone who abandons me at my weakest moments- who values money over time with me during crisis. And from that point on, I changed everything. My hair is blue. I have a blog. I got a new job. I cut the people out of my life that hurt me. Life is too short and I’m miserable enough. I can’t surround myself with any toxic people. I’m taking in toxic medicine every day as it is lol

        Liked by 1 person

Share Your Thoughts

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s