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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Sexual abuse therapy

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UNCLE JACK They all were sorry to hear of his death, all except for 'Lizabeth. She cried herself to sleep that night tears of relief from years of fright and disbelief, for she had said on many nights "I wish him dead." Now in his cold, dark grave he lay. Someone above had heard her pray, and saved her from the wretched sin of a 'good man' with a monster within, of a seven-year-old, which lingered on until that crash and he was gone. A teenage girl could then be free of fear, but she would always see the haunting visions of the past. The anger and pain inside would last.

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