My story of childhood abuse through poetry...finding my way to freedom (TW?)

The Key

Scar upon scar,

Telling stories, I dare not scream.

Your hands muffle my voice;

I sink into the darkness of you.

Your abyss.

The Alone.

Alone.

Always Alone.

Chains, I foraged for myself

Keeping myself in.

You wrap around my throat

Like some suffocating blanket.

Clinging to my despair as if for air.

Walls. Brick by brick.

Build around me.

You lock me up for no one to see.

No one can hear my screams or pleas.

Until.

One day.

The pain from my clenched hand

Has filled every nerve in my being

Screaming no more!

The blood that trickles down

Is no longer my companion.

I have to open my bloody hand

And with arthritic pain –

Years of clenching tight –

I release.

A key.

Bloody and rusty.

But a key all the same.

I had the key

To unlock the door

That you had build

Keeping me in with every word, action and look

You poured down my throat.

I reach down and grab a hold of my insides

And smear them over the coarse brick walls

Of this twisted tower that had become home.

For shame no longer belongs to me.

Take it back –

It is rightfully yours.

You live in this tower build of blood and stone –

OF secrets and shame -

But for you, you get no key-

For I take it with me, it is rightfully mine.

You must find your own.

You can not have me anymore.

Days, weeks, years, wasted.

No more, I scream.

This time my scream no longer lands on ears that turn away

This time it bores into your skull like a drill into wood.

Shavings of you fall to the floor.

You may not have me anymore.

And with that, I unlock the door.

I drop the key for I no longer need it

I am free.