Theft of The Soul

Theft of the Soul is what I  think happens to a child when they are so severely damaged by a violent act of sexual abuse that they fragment.

We need to take care of these fragile developing souls, and build them up. Provide them help and encouragement.

Origins Of Darkness

I once stood in the light shiny and new
That was long and tiresome time ago
Before the dark fingers swept upon me
And tore my living soul from my tiny body
Theft of the soul as it has now been termed

Leaving nothing but a vast gaping hole
Where my heart was once connected
My mind swirls with emptiness and hurt
The evil took the part that was once me
The person I once was no exists inside

The darkness inside has created a trinity
A fragmented , broken soul thriving on pain
An Unholy Trinity, feeding on it's suffering
I am here because the pain was too great
Broken into pieces, the Origins of Darkness



If you suspect childhood sexual assault, please report it. Don't turn a blind eye, you may be saving the child from years of self torment, even after the abuse stops.

My 2 Mothers

My life has always been complicated to say the very least, and nothing has ever come  easy for me, including parents.
I had two Mothers. No they were not lesbians, they were Mother and Daughter.  My Biological Mother was turned into Children services for abuse and neglect, and My Grandmother and Grandfather agreed to take guardianship of me. We all stayed in the same house, and I remember thinking of my biological mother as my sister when I was small, calling My Grandmother "Ma" and always calling my grandfather Daddy.
Truth is it was the man I thought was My brother, whom I found out was my uncle, and  my "Daddy" who spent most of the time shaping my youth, and my ideals.  My Grandmother was jealous of me, feeling that I took too much time away from her marriage, and my biological mother had raised all of her sisters and her brother and was tired of kids, and she had a new baby, my sister from her lover to take care of. This sort of left me to my own devices.
I was Daddy's sobriety baby, a chance to redeem himself and do all the the right things with me that he did wrong with his own children. He was determined to educate me. At the age of 3 he had me sitting at the kitchen table reading Hemingway, writing in Penmanship Books and doing 11th grad Business Math. I suppose he used these books because they were handy, and were laying about the house. I would look out the kitchen window and watch the neighborhood children play on my swing set with my baby sister, and feel guilty for being jealous. I wanted to feel the sun on my skin. I wanted to play outside and laugh, but Daddy loved me, and I had to listen to him. There was no one to watch me while he was working at the mill, so I would put in my time studying, and getting lost in the books and learning kept me from harm. Perhaps Daddy knew what he was doing.
I still honour the memory of both of my Mothers, as I am sure they loved me as much as they were capable of at that given point in time. Respect is another thing my Daddy taught me. I respect My Biological Mother, she gave birth to me, and she did the best she could I suppose, and I loved her. I Respect My Ma for giving me a home, and for doing the best she could. They were both good Grandmothers to my children.

Happy Mother's Day to My Two Mothers My Daddy and My Brother, I love and miss you alll....