CLEANING THE LINEN

That bed, that bed, it holds my fears

all the feelings, I hid for years

it tears my heart, it’s all a part

of the abuse I suffered, the innocence I lost

all the sacrifices, that were the cost

of a peaceful life, of a friendly look

they gave me no love, my trust they took

my world torn apart, my naivete gone

I needed a place, to be myself on

but he always came to me, always begged

whenever I was in the bed

so that bed means to me all violence and evil

that bed belongs to wicked people

they ruined my childhood, made me scared

a bed was a place where your body; you shared

no matter if you wanted to, no matter what you felt

it was either the bed; or the belt

I chose the bed, because I could escape

but if he’s beating you, there’s no way

he lays down the law, you comply or feel pain

each time it gets easier, because you know it will happen

so a bed is like a haven, you can lose yourself in your mind

and never feel the turmoil,

that he’s putting you through at the time

so a bed is kinda safe, in my own sick way

even though it was bad, and with my mind he played

"I’ve lived to see another day!"

I’ll lie in that bed, because now he can’t hurt me

and even though the memory will haunt me

now I’m the adult, and I can defend myself

so I put this memory upon a shelf

and sleep in a bed where my mate loves me

and my body is my own, simple and free

and if I choose to share myself; he’ll hold me and love me mine

and I am a whole person, for the very first time.