Casualties of War - A Poem

I wrote this poem 20 years ago about being a survivor of pretty intense child abuse at the hands of my stepmother, and clawing my way out of that shit. Trigger Warning: Child Abuse, Trauma...

Wounded children grown now

Looking behind doors before

Going to bed at

Night they tuck themselves

Under the covers shivering

With fear wondering if

Tonight the nightmares will

Be averted.

The monsters come creeping in

Shadows slinking through

Dreams reaching out and

Touching the wounded ones who

Only want peace and quiet just

Some rest and tranquility some

Serenity some calm and they

Awaken in a cold

Sweat, shaken to

The core.

Disjointed thoughts and

Dreams and nightmares of

Dayfrights and terrors of

Bad things to come and take

The good times, slim though

They are, away from

The wounded ones, destroying

The small patches of

Good things that

We have managed to

Create for

Ourselves in our

Daily lives.

And our monsters live on not

Caring what they did to

Us not concerned because they

Are inhuman and inhumane

They have no souls

No hearts no humanity

They tried to strip our

Dignity our sanity our

Reality from us and we

Shook and we rocked and we

Cracked some under the

Pressure but we

Are here.

God damn it we

Are here we are

Alive living breathing and

Broke the cycle that they

Would have had us continue in

Our own children we broke

The chain they would have

Had us forge more links on

They did not win.

Battleworn we are casualties

Of war we carry scars

We are wounded sometimes

We bleed sometimes

We cry out or hide behind

Doors or under covers or

In the arms of those who

Love us seeking

Shelter from the storms

Of memory but we

Are alive always we are

Alive we

Survived the war we

Made it through.

To us then the

Medal of Honor to us

The Purple

Heart to us the

Silver Star to us

Campaign ribbons and

Awards innumerable we are

Heroes we are

Shining lights in the

Sky we are

Amazing beings

Brave and strong.