Touch (a poem for girls that where sa'd or raped by men)

Touch

After it happened, you never felt clean again. You wanted the touch to go away. You go to the shower, scrubbing and scrubbing but it doesn't go away. The pain, it sticks.

Usually after this happens, you grow to find dangerous ways of coping. Like burning, cutting, fucking, nicotine, or drugs.

But it doesn't matter how deep you cut, how badly you burn your skin, how hard you fuck, or how good the drugs are. Because at the end of the day, when the effect wares off, you remember it again.

You never trust men again, scared the same thing will happen.

You try going to therapy but all they say is, "It's not your fault. You didn't deserve it.". You already know this, it doesn't help when they say things you already know. You fucking hate it. But you can't say that, because they are only trying to comfort you. Nonetheless, it doesn't help no matter what they say, because they aren't the ones who went through what you did.

You wanna cut your skin off, so the skin he touched wouldn't be there anymore.

You scrub so hard, your skin bleeds. But you can't stop, you just want it to go away.

Your skin feels tight and itchy, you never feel clean no matter how good you clean yourself.

"Just go away, damnit!" You screech, itching your skin where he touched.

You where young, too young.

"Why don't you trust me!? I'm not like them.." the men tell you, angry. But your infuriated. THEY DON'T KNOW HOW YOU FEEL. They don't understand..

The chances of rape or sexual assault happening are in the middle, so why did this happen to you, out of all people? At such a young age too..?

You weep under your blanket, wishing it would all just go away.

You wish the worst death upon him, hoping he suffers greatly..wishing he goes through the most painful experience of a death.

Chances are, you become more violent since the attack.

"It's not fair..why me?"

You can never seem to catch a break from your constant weeping.

There's a singular question that lingers in every girls mind after their attack.

"Why. Me."

But there's never an answer.

You suffer from PTSD, a dangerously high chance of depression as well.

Most of us who suffered from this cruelty, want to die.

You just feel so nasty. You've been touched. You want to split you fucking head open, never breath again.

"You asked for it" no. No you didn't sweetie. You where way too young to consent to something like that. It's his fucking fault. And as a survivor..I wish nothing but the worst fucking death for him. Your strong. Your a survivor. We all are, us girls that had to go through this pain. We will make it through this. And don't feel alone in this..because I'm here for you. And if there are any other survivors of sa/rape reading this,.. they are too.