The man with Back hands

Hello, my name is Courtney Cook I suffer from PTSD, anxiety, depression, Bipolar, panic attacks, and ADHD.

This poem is about the childhood abuse I suffered, and how I now suffer from PTSD. The abuse I went through forced me to grow up quickly and has had a huge impact on my daily life. I hope you guys like my poem because it was extremely difficult to write this. I hope you enjoy reading my poem. 


The Man with Black Hands

The man’s hands were black as ash and cold as ice
Everywhere he touched a person, it would blister and sore
The man left a path of destruction, all on a quest for self-pleasure
What cost was a man willing to spare, and he didn’t at all care
There sits a girl drowning in his ash,  she was covered in blister and sores
Yet none notices the girl drowning, all because of the man with black hands
When looking at the girl, they see a shy child who is cold as ice
The man got to live a full life of pleasure, but he died in agony with nobody who cared by his side
The sweet girl lives a life of pain, never getting peace even after he died
The law said they would protect her, yet that man had escaped justice’s hand
So now she must bury her childish heart into the sand
She was forced to grow all too quickly, without getting a second chance
The chance to be a child again, so she lives her life in constant fear
The embarrass of love one can quench the flames of pain, for even just a little while
Though the pain never stays away, it hunts the mind and mocks the soul
For trauma never heals, and is always constant
I was only four when I was forced to grow, yet my mind is constantly at war
With the beastly shadow the man left behind, still holds a grip on my very mind
The man with black hands killed the child inside
My mind is divided inside between child youth and the adult truth
I am an adult now, but part of me will always be a child buried inside



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