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What a year! We’ve gone from finding our feet to spreading our wings

Written by TMOF volunteer ambassador - Dr Linda Jane Newby A celebration of our achievements in 2021 2021 was a truly transformational year for The Maggie Oliver Foundation. As we start a busy new year with lots more exciting plans, we wanted to pause to reflect on...

NO ONE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT VICTIMS OF CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE

NO ONE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT VICTIMS OF CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE, it has taken me a lifetime to build up the courage to write this, but here we go….. I was born in 1966, a brother to a loving family in London and my parents at the time were hard working and for all their work...

Poem by John Roedel

my brain and heart divorced a decade ago over who was to blame about how big of a mess have become eventually, they couldn't be in the same room with each other now my head and heart share custody of me stay with my brain during the week and my heart gets me on...

This is my life, written down on paper

My name is ‘Rosie’. This is my life written down on paper. My childhood was not a very good one. My parents were heroin addicts and as you can imagine they were not very good at being parents. Throughout my whole life I had no boundaries no one to tell me off. I was...

Natural Thinking by Ria Walton

the frondescence of flourishing leaves  coming to life the essence of new life for spring the re birth of trees the birds singing their melodies sweet songs of morning nature alive with fresh new growth buds blooming their energy forthwith to bring, the floral...

The Three Girls Workshop

Three Girls Workshop With lockdown having restricted the hosting of events ‘in person’ the Foundation recently ran on online meet-up centred around the BAFTA award winning BBC mini-series Three Girls.  The programme (for which Maggie worked as the Programme...

VICTIMS’ COMMISSIONER SAYS CULTURE CHANGE TO SUPPORT AGGRIEVED LONG OVERDUE

By Ryan Hooper, PA Chief Reporter  A new, specific law is required to give more rights to those affected by crime, the Victims' Commissioner for England and Wales has said. Dame Vera Baird QC said a change of culture'' was long overdue'' to look after'' victims of...

Poem 2 by Michelle

Categories - Survivor Poems

In these eyes I hold the key,

To a life you will never see.

Beneath the surface of fake smiles and gestures

My thoughts and feelings lay and fester.

Once a child so innocent and warm, now an icicle, broken and torn.

As a child so willing to learn,

This of course was no concern.

No-one questioned the methods used,

Of course this child was being abused.

This child had suffered for so long,

Unaware that anything was wrong.

As I grew I became aware,

Of how this life can be so unfair.

I thought I was doing something right,

I stayed in the hut to avoid a fight.

On my head I have an imprint,

Nonces only until you’re content.

Suddenly this day took bad shape,

If  only I had foreseen my rape.

I held the grass my grasp so tight,

If only I had put up more of a fight.

My hands were cut from grasping thorns,

Cause by a nonce who had the horns.

My face burned from nettle stings,

Why have I experienced these things?

In these eyes I hold the key,

To a life you will never see.

Beneath the surface of fake smiles and gestures,

My thoughts and feelings lay and fester.

Once a child so innocent and warm,

Now an icicle so broken and torn.

Yet I know that I will bounce back up,

For mine is a spirit that never gives up.

 

 

 

By Michelle

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