The Intruder

I sit down thinking about past memories,

there's a lot of pain and mixed up psychologies.

I remember my stomach, doing its a topsy-turvy dance

as I experience the confusion brought on by circumstance.

The impending knowledge of doom kept me awake with fright,

then the intruder would arrive until the late hours of the night.

He would arrive doing a deed that brought him sick pleasure.

I was a prize, a secret, some kind of treasure.

My innocence vanished, sucked into a black hole.

The intruder was a monster, who didn't seem to have a soul.

Why was I the one that he chose?

Only his mixed-up mind really knows.

For years and years, he continued his assault.

All this time I thought I was at fault

All those years I endured and endured;

have taken their effect, I'm still not fully cured.

I lost my self-esteem, innocence, and willpower

My recovery has been slow, but I've improved by the hour.

As I think about the intruder and all that he has done.

I believe that despite his efforts; I have won.

There's a picture of understanding that I begin to see.

The intruder for me also had one for him.

Maybe it's because of this that I realize his sickness.

I know why he is who he is, and offer the intruder FORGIVENESS.