NEW

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...

Jen is a brave survivor of the most horrific sexual abuse who still struggles every single day……

I WAS REPEATEDLY RAPED, SEXUALLY ASSAULTED, BEATEN AND TORTURED. At the age of four when I lived with my parents, I suffered from emotional abuse and beatings. At the age six until the age of thirteen I was raped, penetrated, sexually assaulted and beaten by few white...

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...

“I feel lost, and I don’t know if this pain will ever leave me…..”

I  was abused from age 7 to 20. No one in my life knows except doctors/counsellors/helplines or the occasional Samaritan. I carry on every day like I'm absolutely fine. No one would ever know.   It's almost like having two lives which makes me very sad. I was...

Poem 2 by Michelle

In these eyes I hold the key, To a life you will never see. Beneath the surface of fake smiles

Loveartpix

My name is Dez (AKA Loveartpix) & I am a self-taught Creative Artist from Manchester. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder over 10 years ago & more recently autism, a diagnosis I am now beginning to come to terms with & better understand. From an early...

Poem by Michelle

I am lost in this darkness, I can't see a light Tormented by my demons, they come worse at night.   I am lost in this spiral of unspeakable pain Longing for a rainbow that comes after the rain.   My head, it's pounding...

The Long Walk

Categories - Survivor Poems

A Plea to the Learned

Conception joy nine months of wait

Pushing out through a narrow gate

I cry, then faint, losing so much blood

I welcome my baby into our twosome hood

Puddle jumping, riding bikes

Climbing trees and taking hikes

We paint and draw, play dress up games

Puzzles, dancing, making up names

Schoolwork, friends, parties galore

National Trust, sleepovers, and so much more

We laughed and cried and played and danced

We sang and loved our lives enhanced

The sweetest cuddles, the softest touch

I could never love a child so much

Then darkness came from a TV screen

A look a word to break our dream

Preying eyes and sticky hands

Making mini beasts of the cutest lambs

Smoking pot and drinking came

Running from home became a game

Promises of better from ugly faces

Taking my child to disgusting places

My lamb to slaughter quickly went

Abusive words and rage unspent

Kicking screaming smashing things

Chaos, disorder this grooming brings

Crying siblings, mama broken

Calls for help and gets no token

So in they come with clipboards bent

Judging parents no sympathy felt

Reports were wrote, truth and justice gone

Making up stories, from breast, the child was torn

With disbelief, my heart it bled

All help lost, instead, with child they fled

Fighting in court, I hoped they’d see

That grooming and blame didn’t come from me

Business broken , money gone

Moving house, without her, no home

The judge he rules, a portly chap

His stern, drinking face delivered the slap

Not coming home but in another’s hands

A temporary mother has my firstborn lamb

To a system shattered by lack of cash

I implore you to stop and think of us

Mamas and Papas are not always to blame

Victims of another’s grooming game

They take our kids, fresh meat they say

Vulnerable and hurting, they make them play

They know the words they use will bring

“Fresh lambs to the slaughter” these bastards sing

So listen gents and ladies too

Those who sit on seats and make the rules

Regard  our stories, our sobs and pleas

Stop the slaughter save our lambs

Save future kids from grooming hands

You have the power you have the pen

Stop this pain repeating again and again and again

How to View Discreetly