Pictures

The walls bend, crowded
With pictures hanging
Crooked, upside-down,
Staring at me.
If only they all were turned
So I didn't relive
One more second
In my mind
Of HIM crossing a line,
Stealing something that
No 5-year-old girl even knows she owns.
There are nails angled
In the creamy yellow paint,
Holding up wooden frames
Cracked, splintered
Surrounding memories
Imprinted on my mind.
I shut my eyes,
Frozen in time
In the hallway
Watched by pictures
Of a me
Who never had a chance
To grow up.