Patterns Of The Young

When little, falling into a pattern, not one of my own choosing to be sure. A lifetime of horror and abuse by those who supposedly loved me more than anything on earth. Walking from day to night, never knowing from one moment to the next, what would end up happening. Following no routine, rules were set up to end in sexual abuse, for no matter what happened, whether listening or not, the end result was always the same. Pain, abuse, physical violence, all were normal events of each day, no one seemed to care, no one stopped any of it from coming about. All the screams of tears fell silently, wasted on those who endeavored to use the little body of an innocent child. Falling into a pattern as a child, it followed into puberty and on into adulthood. This pattern no longer fitting, but it's carried like a school bag, not knowing how to get rid of it. Not too long ago, starting to learn, slowly, beginning to barely understand what had happened as a child. Making progress a tiny bit at a time, finally can see the light, the barest thread of hope in all this eternal darkness.