Over the Rainbow - a site for survivors of any unwanted sexual activity
    Tini's Poetry
Self-Portrait
I am no longer the little girl with big blue eyes
The child with Shirley Temple curls
The one with the trusting smile

I am no longer in the playground of my childhood
The safety of my dreams
The secureness of my ivory tower

They tore down the walls and invaded me
Hunting me down in the woods of my fear
Playing with me while I layed on the ground

I am no longer the pure little angel
The child with an untouched body
The one with an innocent soul

Instead I fight memories of the assualt
Memories of their faces
Hurting me while I couldn't scream

I am lost and torn and never free
Abandoned and crazy and gloomy and bitter
So empty I can never feel
 
Staten Island Photograph
The barbed wire spikes the lifeless doll
The only relict of a little girl not found
Missing for too long
Pronounced dead at the end of a hot and timeless summer

The doll, meanwhile, is considered evidence of an unknown crime
A symbol for the loss of innocence
As they lament in black silence
Battered, weary and torn, it reminds me of myself
 
My Death
Disturbed I am awakening
In the middle of my so-called life
Only to find that I have lost it
Nothing but a zombie since they killed me
And ripped me off my innocence
And invaded this sacred place
Now I'm wandering amongst those who don't understand
Those who dare not to listen
And rather shut their eyes from the truth

I am torn between the child I never was and the woman I've become
Aged and hurt beyond my years
Left with what cannot be said outloud
And hate towards myself and those who did this to me
Who committed what can never be undone
And left me there to die

Flatline
My life is ticking away
Leaving me with nothing but memories of yesterday
Stabbed and assassinated I am bleeding to death
I am so cold inside
And unable to move

My life is ticking away
Like minutes on a clock dim at noon
Dragged off and silenced I am suffocating
I am so cold inside
And unable to cry for help

I am departing this life
Disappearing, deceasing, breathing my last
Raped and abused I am worthless
I am so cold inside
And the pressure finally fades away

 
 
Alive
I buried myself on a hot summer morning (an eternity ago)
In a wooden casket small enough to hold what was left of me
(not much)
Digging deep into the dry soil, a black hole in the ground
And I looked so peaceful, eternally sleeping
I left a few daisies by the graveside (I never cared much for roses)
A common place no one would recognize
And didn't turn back
No one was there to weep for me

I carried on in a zombie's corpse
A body refusing to give up, turning 15, turning 20 (I should be dead by now)
I still look very much like her (just a lot older)
We've got the same blue eyes to drown ourselves
And don't ask me how I made it this far (the mind is a strange thing)
You bruised me and tore me and made me bleed
You may have broken me but I didn't die
Non, tu ne m'as pas tu
Meme quand tu etais sur de ton crime
Je suis vivante, vivante apres tout
Et toi, l'assassin avec tes yeux vides et ternes
Tu es le vrai mort
Et je te hai non plus -
I survived you

____

(The translation of the French passage reads:
"No, you didn't kill me
Even if you were sure of your crime
I'm alive, alive after all
And you, the assassin with the empty and lackluster eyes
You are the real dead
And I don't hate you anymore")

 

Lucky *
I dread picking up the phone and dialling the number I now know by heart not only

To hear your voice, deep and comforting, sounding like a smile,

And to have you tell me how you have been doing in all the time we haven't talked,

Or to have you come over and take me into the glaring sun

For a walk under the thick August heat;

But also to tell you of the book I just read and of

How I'm shaking in response to a story that will never be my own, yet is, in a way

A more eloquent, credible and triumphant version of the testimony I gave to you.

And I would love to ponder questions and analyze words and just walk quietly

Instead of always mapping out before you the strange paths of what I'm thinking.

You would walk, beside me, the tall one, the smart one, the big mystery,

And I would draw in your smell - the one I fail to describe even though I remember -

And you would care, in your concern, for my raw exposure at this lecture,

Patient as you've always been, listening, rocking me during sleepless nights.

You would lead me, inquire me, unravel me, comfort me as long as you could bear.

But be assured: I won't let my pleading interrupt your studies, invade your thoughts,

And there is a reason why I swore to myself to be the strong one around you -

The one who made it, the one who can deal, no longer a project that needs fixing:

So you might learn to see in me the woman underneath the victim,

The one you failed to notice, the one who probably never had a chance.

And I will act, and pretend, and never stop smiling,

For I am a fighter, a survivor - not wanting for you to rescue me yet again,

Making me dependent on the healing assurance of your help in hours of need,

Afraid of falling even deeper into feelings you cannot return. I understand.

I belong to another world, a darker one, where you will never feel at home.

* The book this refers to is "Lucky" by Alice Sebold, hence the title of the poem.

Wounded
There are no more scabs left to pick at when I want to feel the burning pain
of skin being torn, split apart, ripped off, ruined and damaged
like a silent label for those like me.

There are scars now. The older ones have faded to white, fine lines
on pale skin, a relict of teenage years. That was the pair of nails scissors,
and there, the large one, a dull razor blade bought for biology class at thirteen.

The ones on the wrists are difficult to spot. The cuts were small, and despite the veins
- the pulsating red liquid running through them, pulsating with life
there wasn't much blood; there was never enough.

The newer scars are of a reddish pink, like wounded skin, or a scream
of those with no voice. The large knife, too old I guess, didn't slice well. Why didn't
anyone walk in on me, ever? The kitchen was always open.

This is my autobiography, a map for those with no directions when all roads
are closed. There is no way out of the mind. You stole my innocence and traded me
a lifetime of remembrance. No one put an obituary into the paper.

The scars seduce me. There is no violence, but a promise of release from the poison
running through my blood, the virus you gave me as a sweet good-bye, spreading
in my scarred body like a deadly cancer. There is no cure, only opium.

My skin aches, longingly, to feel the all-familiar hurt; to feel anything at all. Let the blood
wash away the numbness, wash away those years. I draw red lines on my wrists instead
and will not light the candle tonight.

Letter to My Parents
I am so sorry I failed you
And betrayed you all these years
Lying to cover words never meant to be spoken
While I hurt behind closed doors, behind false laughter
Trying to meet your expectations
And my own

I am so sorry I never told you
And let them get away with it
Knowing you would want names and facts I couldn't provide
While I tried so desperately to ban the memory
Erasing from my mind the childhood they stole from me
And their crimes

I am so sorry I never asked for your help
And tried to handle it on my own
Silenced by threats and guilt and shame I kept to myself
While I couldn't bear what you might think of me
Raped and abused and stripped to the bone
Your little girl no longer

I am so sorry for writing this instead of saying it outloud
And for not letting you read any of it
Crying alone, mourning my loss
While you are clueless of my pain, protected by my silence
Trying to find a way to explain it all
I don't remember, I dont recall
 
Apocalypse Now
Startling from an unpleasant dream I mourn the loss of innocence
In the cold morning light with its deep shadows
Returning to normalcy takes so much effort
When I feel my world falling apart around me
And I no longer know myself, too distracted by long-forgotten recollections
Behind walls of lies and this silly masquerade that I can't keep up any longerknow myself, too distracted by long-forgotten recollections
Behind walls of lies and this silly masquerade that I can't keep up any longer
I have decided to finalize it all
 
Truth shall be revealed
So let me collect what's left of my strength to take on this combat
Against myself and what is haunting me
Ghosts that won't seem to leave me alone
They have gotten what they could from me
So I'm girding myself for my last battle For they shall not win my soul
 
Martin Returns Home 
I kept your name a secret for so long Now you're coming back to haunt me like a ghost
The long-lost son, finally reunited with his family
And what happened to your 14 year-old girlfriend
Did you silence her just like you silenced me?
 
You see, I was so young then
So little and oh so afraid of you, obedient
If you encountered me today, the woman I've become
I wonder: would you recognize me at all
Or remember the wicked games of those childhood years?
 
It's hard to imagine seeing you after all this time
All grown-up and scarred by life and alcohol
And, if you remember them, crimes committed in the past we shared
Could I look into your eyes or would I run
Trying to forget the weight of your body on mine?

You weakened me, and do so still
Who gave you all this power over me
Memories are breaking me into pieces scattered all over the floor
But I can't let you ruin me again this time
So I smile, and move on, and fight you in silence 
 

 In The End
He kissed me good-bye
On my salty lips where the tears he hadn't seen
Had dried and vanished as I had swallowed unspoken screams
Dreaming me to a far-off place

He kissed me good-bye
No longer daring to cross my teeth's boundary with his tongue
As he had earlier, invading me with wet brutality
Knowing I had never been kissed like this before

He kissed me good-bye
Softly almost, as if to thank me for keeping quiet, for giving him what he had wanted
For not fighting back his weight, buried by a thousand stones
Shutting my eyes at the sight of his face

He kissed me good-bye
And smiled at my naked fragility knowing he had left his marks
A signature I wouldn't be able to erase with hot showers and soap and silence
The hunter had possessed his prey, if only for a while

He kissed me good-bye, and I kissed him back
So he would exit through the heavy door back to reality
Take with him the burden of that afternoon
And let me rest in pieces
 
Refelctions in a Train Window
There is a woman with the curvy body of a
grown-up reflected against the city outside
the train window. She is of
average height, average looks, but pretty,
beautiful when smiling from her heart, gorgeous
when laughing and giggling like a soft thunder storm.

She has long fingers, used to holding
pens and pencils and books,
and long nails - it has taken forever to grow them.
They mirror her soul. Her fingers wear
the stone ring refusing to break, and the silver band
bought at a market in Ireland, curved
like the waves crashing against the Cliffs of Moher.

She survived a hell of violence, a torture of agony, a death
of silence. She chose life,
the one that is always rewarding, the one with a purpose
for those who dare to fulfill it. Words telling, breaking
the silence, drop from her mouth like the first raindrops
on a humid summer afternoon.

The woman is brave. She dares to love again, confessing it,
taking the risk of getting her courageous heart
broken. Having learned the hard way, she is strong enough
to love life for what it is: a series of
opportunities, struggles and changes, and sometimes
an unexpected gift hidden in simplicity.

The woman - stronger than expected, better than imagined -
is healing. Is there ever a way of describing the feelings of those
remembering but moving on, interrupted but growing, fighting and overcoming?
She looks relieved, the burden lessening, the chains loosening, the future
in sight after a lifetime of endurance. There is a woman,
scarred but no longer wounded. Hopeful after all.
I faced my demons and came out alive
 

Rome

I

You dictate my life
My thoughts follow you, wandering around throughout the day
I'm lost in the foreign city of the all-too familiar
Leave me to die among ancient ruins
Among the violent history of Man

Gods turn away their faces and their mighty swords
Ignorant of the Fallen at their feet
And darkness, tenderly, swallows my cry

II

The city puts itself to sleep
In a sweet, forgetful slumber
And I'm the one who wanders restlessly
Deserted altars, broken power, an empty sky
And no signs of mercy
The past has come to paint me
A dark, unforgiving future

III

Broken glass of a mosaic shattered on the floor
In memory of innocence
Smoke in crowded bars too close to midnight
And I cannot escape the knowledge of your crime
The memory of how you murdered me
And lured me into eternal shadows to lay me down
Next to other people's victims
A gathering of those who know no peace, but only rest from pain
We never go to sleep

The Spider
The spider waits.
Its heart pounding impatiently under the thick careless flesh,
it strains every muscle in its ugly body
yet doesn't move. It has learned
that rewards will come in time. So it hushes
the greedy voice in its pitch-black heart, hungrily screaming.
It is ready.

The spiderweb glitters softly in the darkness.
It is woven, skillfully, in the uppermost corner
where it won't be spotted. Evil hides, disguises.
The spider built the web with its fat legs, covered
with long black hairs, and it built it well -
a deadly trap to satisfy its needs.
It is time.

Its prey is small.
The spider watches with empty eyes the tiny body caught,
entrapped, glued to its fate. Hardly enough flesh, it thinks,
but it will do. An opportunity at last. The prey is stuck,
caught while flying too high, never knowing
of the danger that lied before, unexpected. Was it too naive?
It doesn't fight.

The spider strikes.
Assassination is quick but seems to last all afternoon,
and the prey, giving up, feels nothing but the hot painful sting
evoked by the spider's heavy body, piercing its skin. The enemy's poison
guarantees endless suffering and an agonizing death.
Finally the spider - sweaty, sticky, yearning to ease the desire - eats its full.
It is never satisfied.
 

No Answers
I wonder what made you chose me
What did you see in me
Just an opportunity, an easy prey
Or had you watched me before, planning
To undress me, to hold me down with sweaty hands
To force yourself upon me
To ruin my innermost soul with your every touch

I wonder what you saw in me
A little girl with blue eyes, a little shy
The school nerd, hiding behind books
Or just a piece of flesh for you to use
Did you see the bloody print of your hand on the sheets
Did you ever hear me say No
Were you satisfied after you left me lying there

I wonder if you remember what you did
Do you think back of it with regret and sorrow, guilt
Or with lust and that unbearable smile
Did you know you would come back to haunt me
Did you think I would forget
Your moaning left me deaf
All the things I saw made me blind to the beauty of life

I've wondered about questions never to be answered
For far too long
Now I'm moving on, I won't let you rule anymore
It still hurts but all my hate is gone
Yes, I will always remember
But this is to you who raped me, who made it all so difficult:

I won, I'll win in the end
 

July 12, 2004
The day passed
With rain in the morning, soaking me
Half a bottle of vodka in the evening, drowning my sorrows in haziness
And endless thoughts questioning Why

I remember her
The little girl in her blue bathing suit, vulnerable
Me, nine years ago
The weather was so much better that day

There is no way of forgetting
The hand on my neck, chocking me
The words, hissed not spoken
The blood and the fear and the pain

The day passed
With sunshine in the afternoon, warming me as I walked
Chocolate cake and tea with milk and sugar
And someone to talk to all night

The day passed
Life goes on as it always does
 
 The Long Goodbye
As the sun sets on my dead body
I feel the cold crawling up my spine
And the diminished lights of the city
Slowly go black

This is the life I couldn't live
And that wouldn't let me die
This is the life I never had
And that others have taken from me

As the moon rises over my dead body
I feel that I have failed
And the hope that kept me going
Slowly fades away

This is what I have become
And what I didn't choose
This is what they made me
And what I never wanted to be

As the sun rises over the dewy grass
They find my dead body hidden
And during all this time
No one even noticed I'm gone

They find the wounds and the cuts
And the track of scars on my skin
And autopsies reveal my inside is empty
Filled with pins and knives and razor blades
I never even lived
I died so long ago
 
The Rape
The pain
Sharp like razor blades
Piercing my skin
I swallowed it
With bleeding eyes
 
He is
Always and never
On top, and inside
Heavy
Sweaty
Merciless
 
I cry with no voice
Silenced
Defeated
Never more a child
Innocence
Is forgotten
Strangled to death
 
Darkness
Embraces me
Whispers
Forgot, Overcome
I want to
Live, Let go
Grow
Move on from this bed 
 
I'm eight
Blue-eyed
I like to play the flute
I go to school
Five days a week
I love to laugh 
 
I'm eight
Pinned down
I have wounds that won't heal
I didn't struggle much
Paralyzed by fear
Am I a woman now? 
 
A window
Behind him
A street
Away from here
And the sky
Blue like Heaven
Too high
To ever be reached 
   
Email me!
"someplace where there isn't any trouble"
Copyright 2003 - 2008
Copying of any part of this site without permission is prohibited