27.12.21
Do you know what's ultimately fucked up?
The fact that everything I've learned
Has been from my abuser,
From my sexual assulter.
To be seen and never heard.
A rule I kept,
Even while being beaten on the floor.
You may see my tears,
But my cries and screams are still mine.
To having different personalities,
Ironic I was told this
By the man who violated me.
There's so many rules that I still live by,
None of them my own.
They're all rules forced on me,
The rules that became my survival.
I know I'm not alone,
But they did such a good job of making me believe I was,
So that now
I still feel alone.
I'm still so alone.
You give me all the numbers of people I can talk to,
But you know I can't.
You constantly remind me that I can talk to you,
But you know I can't.
The hardest thing about seeking help,
Is the fact that I can't speak.
It was always a joke,
That when we cried
He's steal our tears to drink.
It wasn't just my tears,
Innocence
And childhood he stole,
But also my ability to speak.
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