a poem by Yuri Kageyama
Victims of abuse
do not weep or scream, even whimper.
Too scared to speak out.
Tears are seeking sniffles of sympathy.
Pleas assume cuddles of resolution.
Being born into abuse is darkness with no escape. So we stay silent.
I’m sorry, mama,”
something we say.
We drink in all those words
Like the salty tears we do not taste.
Just wait in fear.
Filled with hatred and the blind groping for justice and
the secret tongue-biting vow of revenge.
But we do not ask for pity.
We do not cry.