November 30, 2011
Have you ever sighed- felt the pucker of
skin beneath a blade and felt alive again?
He was going to rape you and you know it.
He was going to kill you and you know it.
You have burns on your hands and
scars on your legs and
you're proud of it.
Battle scars you display
like fear in your eyes,
like tears on your face -
no one notices.
You fade into the walls of crowded hallways -
or you want to, but you haven't learned to faint on command,
you just stand at attention,
waiting in silence- your waiting is useless,
you're waiting for nothing.
You've been waiting for years
and you still feel his hands on you -
still cover up a bit, still hide
inside your skin.
You wish you could face him
and tell him you blame him -
you wish that you could but you still feel the shame of it.
He had you restrained, made you take him in, screaming -
no reason to fight
you surrendered to dying.
Have you ever slit your wrists and felt you're alive again?
Who ever thought bleeding would make you feel free of him.

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