She

I’m biting my lip to keep from crying
Holding back the tears of fear of anger, frustration
Constantly fighting with the people that make them
The pain in my throat is tightening from trying
To push down the sick like a kick to the core
The answers aren’t good enough; I go in for more.
This is the problem, what I see now
These are the things for which I didn’t allow:
Ideals shattered by family incest, deluded shit stirrers that thought they knew best
Childhood secrets of abuse, perverted vicars and alcohol misuse
Mental breakdowns and social collapse, self-harm of the arm and then relapse.
Confusions of truths of what went on, one person talks and the normality’s gone

My friend was abused by her father the priest

You don’t think of stuff like that of Surrey, the south east.
No wait what am I saying? You don’t think of stuff like that in a church
A friendly community or worse
A religion that professes to love and do good,
When what they do is not what they should.
The hypocrisy and lies is what forced her to cut ties
With the evil there but that meant her friends too.
“I won’t come down, there’s a lot of chance-
I’ll bump into someone else who’ll ask,
’where’ve you been what’s been going on?’”
When behind that friendly facade they knew all along.
Or had their own ideas at least
As to what when on with the family of the priest.
They speculate about adultery, divorce and who hates who
“I heard she was a witch” said the bitch at number thirty two.
 
The distance she’d come shrank more and more
Then the places we’d meet became obscure.
A greasy café here and there-we’d have to find a new street
To meet as the paranoia increased.
I wasn’t allowed to know the place she called home
It was a secret from her friends and family, to keep her alone.

We spent money to make us feel better, had a bottle of wine over dinner

And with barriers broken, talking without tension knew we were onto a winner.
So we sourced out a local that had in its heart
The best intentions for us, to return to the dark
And drink by the river until we struggled to deliver
Ideas from the mind in the head into speech of the mouth
But anyway we laughed all the sadness out.
As the red liquid drained and the night became cold my thoughts grew bold
To say things I’d told myself not to say in case it came out the wrong way.
Confusion came nearer and life became clearer; where was my friend? Why had she changed?
This whole situation fucking sucks it’s deranged!
But at least we kept in touch when she felt good
I asked up on her like a friend should.
It was all going okay given the circumstance
Until I got that call from the police asking to give evidence.
It wasn’t my friend’s fault! I was the first she’d told
Been an eye witness to some of that old
Perverted man’s thoughts and desires like how he’d taught her
His own daughter, to use a vibrator
Stuff like that which I’d kept an account of.
All she wanted was as much collaborative proof as could be
To fuck her father up for eternity
So for that she came to me. She came to me a friend in need.
Knowing still how she felt alone
I sent one last text and deleted her from my phone.

I took her of that social networking site, that one that everyone made a fuss about when it did a mass conversion from an old interface to a new where now each user has to have a massive photo and one little extra one and things are now put into chronological order and you wonder profusely how suddenly pictures from when you were 12 and had caterpillars for eye brows and teeth like a piranha and was fatter than that boy in your class that farted a lot with his arm fat  got on there- you know, that one that rhymes with basefook?

 

I just broke as I am hurting too and have no one to talk to who can understand, first hand.

No one to tell me where my friend has gone
No one to explain to me what’s going on.
No one to say it’s ok and when she’ll be back.
Who is this alien that has replaced her? No one to tell me that.   
This girl who covers herself in holes and ink
And ignores me most of the time until I’m on the brink
Of insanity, eyes wide in the blind silent room.
 
I'm biting my lip to keep from crying
Holding back the tears of fear of anger, frustration
Constantly fighting with the people that make them
The pain in my throat is tightening from trying
To push down the sick like a kick to the core
The answers aren’t good enough; I go in for more.
This is the problem, what I see now
These are the things for which I didn’t allow:
Ideals shattered by family incest, deluded shit stirrers that thought they knew best
Childhood secrets of abuse, perverted vicars and alcohol misuse
Mental breakdowns and social collapse, self-harm of the arm and then relapse.
Confusions of truths of what went on, one person talks and the normality’s gone.

For my friend 2013