Millstones

You tell me about years of mental murder
I was an adult and you were a child
I am guilty of gross negligence
should have a millstone hung about my neck
and drown myself, yes in the deepest sea

I cannot keep such anguish inside me
Sharing it, I hear voices of consolation
I climb out of the dark places of the mind

Listen, the memory reconstructs and recreates
Does not record facts but feelings
Let me hear your terror and your hate
I do not need to spring into positions of
despair or defence

This millstone that I carry
crumbles