Thunder Without Rolling Lightening Without Flash, Thats how I viewed my life because it was nothing but facts. I could feel my precious inside tearing apart, That day was a Sunday when the sun decided to take a rest and let the clouds played its part.
I cried my grandmother would call that sorrow, I was broken I called that feeling from my body that was broken by an unknown.
My molester could’ve been my brother My molester could’ve been my cousin
My molester could’ve been my father
But should I thank the the lord that my molester was nobody but the devil?
As I wore my dress with pride I was still broken on the inside. My mother would say “child fix your face and swallow your pride” but does that mean I should forgive the devil for the disrespect he did on the inside?
