The Closet

I sat in the back of the closet
knees drawn to my chest
arms folded around me tight
no one would rescue me
no one would stop this
no one would lift the dreaded fear
that resided in me daily
whenever depression ruled over her
turning her sweet humble persona into a
boiling raging attacker

So I sat
on the floor
in the back of my closet
on top of vinyl records, my mini typewriter
old doll boxes, amidst shoes
and prayed that one day
He would free me from the
uncertainty of childhood
the instability of reliance
the danger of subordinance, where
my body, spirit, mind and soul
were under attack
just because I was
the only one there for her to pick on
and, since I was merely a child
an only child
whose father didn't care, and
whose family looked the other way
I could not fight back
I could not escape

I sat on my closet floor
while tears splashed against my knees
and prayed to my God
for blessed freedom