A Child Abuse Survivors Group Community Group
We survived child abuse, but the pain still remains and so do the other effects which can last a lifetime. We are often unable to find adequate help, and we are seeking answers that can help us understand what happened so that we can go on to lead normal lives. (Please note that this is a group for child abuse survivors only. If you are a professional in the mental health...
The following are poems and quotations for survivors of child abuse. Please feel free to add anything you have to this discussions topic.
For every child who cries at night
Alone with shame and pain and fright
For every child who wants so much
To only feel a gentle touch
For the beaten child, who cries in pain
Whose tears run silent, like the rain
For the child used to satisfy lust
Who never learns to love or trust
For the child taken from her home
And made to feel so all alone
For the child whose home is just a shell
Where life becomes a living hell
For the child who smiles but cannot feel
Because of scars too deep to heal
For every child who yearns for love
I hope and pray to God above
To hear your cries and heal your pain
And give you back your life again
With love, to all the children
-Kathy Williams (1964-1996)
-Herbert Ward
Your presence is a present to this world.
You are unique and one of a kind.
Your life can be just what you want it to be.
Take the days just one at a time.
Count your blessings, not just your troubles.
You will make it through whatever comes along.
Within you are so many answers.
Understand, have courage, be strong.
Don't put limits on yourself.
So many dreams are waiting to be realized.
Life is too important to leave to chance.
Reach for your peak, your goal, your prize.
Nothing wastes more energy than worrying.
The longer one carries a problem, the heavier it gets.
Don't take life too seriously.
Live a life of serenity, not a life of regrets.
Remember that a little love goes a long way.
Remember that friendship is a wise investment.
Life's treasures are people...together.
Realize that it's never too late.
Do ordinary things in an extraordinary way.
Have health and hope and happiness.
Take time to wish upon a star.
And don't ever forget, for even a day,
How very special you are.
May good things always come your way.
Keep believing in yourself.
Remember, you are so very special.
-Author Unknown
-Leon R. Yankwich
Growing up,
I learned real fast,
Hide your true self,
And wear a mask.
No one cared,
Or ever did,
So I cried to myself,
And always hid.
The older I got,
The more I hid,
Thinking I was still
A little kid.
It’s taken a lot,
To finally see,
There was nothing ever
Wrong with me!
I do not let others
Shape my life,
And when they insist,
I give them due strife.
Take it from someone
Who learned later on,
Just stay true to yourself,
And you’ll never be wrong.
-Author Unknown
- To be kind to myself and cut myself a break
- To enjoy at least one thing that I do well
- To take at least one step towards a life of my own design
- To listen to my own thoughts and not the messages I received as a child
- To believe I am worthwhile
- To respect my own boundaries by defending them if I need to
- To love the child within me for the pure and innocent being she is
- To heal and grow in any way that I can
- To listen to my body and eat when I am hungry, drink when I am thirsty, and sleep when I am tired
- To hug my children and tell them that I am glad they are alive, that I am honored to know them, and that I believe in their dreams
- To break the cycle of abuse by not repeating the history of my family
- To speak up for the truth
Today, I choose to live!
~JillieBean71
It is not easy to
Live life sometimes,
And face the world with a smile.
When you're crying inside,
It takes a lot of courage
To reach down inside yourself
Hold on to that strength
That's still there,
And know that tomorrow
Is a new day -
With new possibilities
But if you can just hold on
Long enough to see this through,
You'll come out a new person -
Stronger,
With more understanding,
And with a new pride in yourself
From knowing you made it.
-Author Unknown
Make me poet laureate
For the world that writhes in pain
For the child sucked out of the womb
For the prisoner in chains
For those who die in thousands
While the rich sort out their scores
For the unknown disappeared
In those boring foreign wars.
Make me poet laureate
For the stranger in the land
For the daughter who is raped
At her father’s evil hand.
For the runaway who sleeps
On a mattress made of stone
For the worker out of work
Left to waste away at home.
Make me poet laureate
For the victim no one hears
For every child that’s battered
While its screams are gagged by fear.
For those too weak to argue
For those who have no tongue
For those too old to matter
In a world that loves the young.
Make me poet laureate
For the beggar at the gate
For those who cry for justice
But are told they have to wait.
Not for presidents and queens
Who are overwhelmed by choice
But for those whose mouths are stopped –
Those who can’t afford a voice.
-Steve Turner (1949 – Present). Born in England. Biographer, journalist, poet.
What do you do when your mother is crazy,
Hysterical, selfish, abusive, and cruel?
What do you do when really you hate her,
And it's all you can do to be distantly cool?
What do you do when you find her repulsive,
And the best of your memories are tinted with pain?
And now she is old, and needs to be near you,
And you cannot stand to be near her again?
How do you tell her the truth when the truth
Keeps accruing like some insurmountable debt?
When the horror that haunts you goes back to a moment
You cannot remember and cannot forget?
What do you do with your love when your love
Has been buried so long that you can't find its grave?
When love for a parent lies outside a window
Through which you imagine how people behave?
What do you do when whatever you do
Must cost more than the option you failed to choose?
For whether you turn to embrace or forsake her,
You're left with a burden you cannot refuse.
-Nicholas Gordon
My name is Misty, I am but three
My eyes are swollen, I cannot see.
I must not be loved for I am punished
by cigarette burns.
I must do right, I can't do wrong,
Or else I am locked up all week long.
When I awake, I'm alone.
The house is dark,
my folks are gone.
Deep down inside I feel bad
For Mom and Dad.
I'm really just an expensive joke.
No more, no less . . . than speed or coke.
Be quiet now! I hear a car.
My dad is back from Charlie's Bar.
I hear him curse, my name he calls.
I squeeze myself against the wall.
On my bed, it's too late.
His face is twisted into hate.
I feel the pain again and again.
Oh, Dear God! Please let it end.
My name is Misty. I am but three.
Last night my father murdered me . . .
-Vesessa Gibbs (8th Grader)
-Frank A. Clark
We pray for children
Who give us sticky kisses,
Who hop on rocks and chase butterflies,
Who stomp in puddles and ruin their math workbooks,
Who can never find their shoes.
And we pray for those
Who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,
who've never squeaked across the floor in new sneakers,
who've never "counted potatoes,"
who are born in places we wouldn't be caught dead,
Who never go to the circus,
Who live in an X-rated world.
We pray for children
Who bring us fistfuls of dandelions and sing off key
Who have goldfish funerals, build card-table forts
Who slurp their cereal on purpose
Who put gum in their hair, put suger in their milk
Who spit toothpaste all over the sink
Who hug us for no reason, who bless us each night.
And we pray for those
Who never get dessert,
Who watch their parents watch them die,
Who have no safe blanket to drag behind,
Who can't find any bread to steal,
Who don't have any rooms to clean up,
Whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,
whose monsters are real.
We pray for those
Who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
Who throw tantrums in the grocery store
And pick at their food,
Who like ghost stories,
Who shove dirty clothes under the bed
And never rinse out the tub,
Who get quarters from the tooth fairy
Who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
Who squirm in church and scream on the phone,
Whose tears we sometimes laugh at
And whose smiles can make us cry.
And we pray for those
Whose nightmares come in the daytime,
Who will eat anything,
Who have never seen a dentist,
Who aren't spoiled by anybody,
Who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
Who live and move, but have no being.
We pray for children
Who want to be carried,
And for those who must.
For those we never give up on,
And for those who don't have a chance.
For those we smother,
And for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer.
-Ina J. Hughs