Venting about abuse

[Yellow]

I wrote the first poem about the msg from my daughter right after I woke up one morning. My daughter was telling me her love and spirit is still with me. I wrote the following poem as a way to vent my anger about domestic violence, which is what killed my daughter. She continues to help me with my anger and sorrow. I consider her spiritual help to be a large part of my recovery from CPTSD.

Their eyes are open,
but they don't see.
Their ears are ready,
but they don't hear.

And abuse pierces lives
with pointed spears.

They turn away from
the fearful cries.
They pretend not to see
the tracks of tears.

While abuse pierces lives
with pointed spears.

They donate money
to compensate.
They pat their own backs
with sideways cheers.

Still, abuse pierces lives
with pointed spears.

[Kizzie]