May 25, 2010
By , Paradox, NY
My wounds,
Are starting to heal.
Though little words,
Open them back up.
I try,
To block out what happened.
But every time I look around,
Something takes me back.
Back to the living room,
Where it started.
And into my bedroom,
When I stopped it.
Or to the night;
That I realized,
It wasn’t only me.
The night,
I’d had enough,
Someone had come to know.

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brax34 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jun. 21, 2010 at 11:52 am
nice, very descriptive
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