Safety Notice

If you are a survivor, please be careful in reading the information compiled here. It is impossible to give information on ritual abuse, and about people's opinions about ritual abuse, in a way that is not upsetting and/or triggering. Only you know how much is wise to read, and how much information you can absorb at one time.




Her lips of blossoming scarlet
Are frozen in times icy grasp with
The light that awakens more than night slumber. White
Deeds witness thoughtless action as
She grows.  Not a hand touches that skin
But her own, and those of empty ardor. As
 Cries fall on deaf ears, as
She waits to see with blind eyes, the letter of scarlet
Burns, branded upon her memory. For no valiant kiss on the skin
Can vanquish the nightmare.  No spirit can break the spell. With
Sparkling eyes and a glinted smile, remembrances are locked away. For just as
The ice thaws over the white
 Landscape, so too will she let go.  Her white
Dress all stains apparent, yet no one knows.  Her dry eyes continue to cry as
Selfish hands reach out in an attempt. Nothing is as
One sees in the jewels of beauty.  Nothing is beyond scarlet.
For scars are memories in a desperate attempt to be forgotten. With
Desire to make everything of empty words she waits with dew on the skin,
 As she transcends childhood.  Skin,
no longer recognizable through the tumultuously cold fading white
Of day. Darkness quickly prevails as she looks into shards of glass.  A reflection with
Hidden truth, which her glazed eyes can no longer see beyond. As
Red-letter days cease, no longer a part of childhood delight. The Scarlet
Words now taunt, but her pleas remain silent as
 She waits...pretends...alone...yet surrounded. As
She tells everything that is nothing and nothing of what’s everything.  Her skin,
Her eyes, her mouth, her voice all reveal what most cannot grasp. That scarlet
 Is for the blame as the snow covers all in white.
Vanishing into nothing, in thought in action in appearance, as
Hours move rapid in their vacancy.  Memories unforgotten with
 A present wanting, screaming in silence for, you... the last petal falls with
Hopes that love would no longer be anxious, but such is in vain. As
The mirror on the wall fools her eyes. As
Soiled thoughts from that which should hold up, merely taint her tarnished skin.
There she stands spinning, draped in white
While memories and lashings of kindred tongue inflict upon her, scarlet.

There she is. With Skin
As White
As Scarlet.


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