Poems I'm Writing

Rape

Many soldiers have PTSD
I feel like one of those soldiers
I won the battle of my body
But not the battle of my mind
I was vulnerable
I was small
I had no fire in my soul
I had no ability to scream and cry
I was eight
He was my family
This was not the love I want
I was thirteen
His hands touched me
In the places where no hand should
I had fallen asleep
His hand slipped into my shirt
He was also family
I was fourteen
My friend touched my boob
He did too
I had fire in my voice
I was fierce
I cried when alone
I told the school
The police officer was male
I was fourteen
He held my hand
Not my heart
I hid
Not well enough
His hands felt like the absence of love
Fear bubbled in my stomach
I cried
I stayed at his house
He was my best friend
I was fifteen
He said people who are raped wants it
He did not touch my body
But he hurt my heart
With his harsh words
He is family
The war over my body might go on
The war with my mind
Will never be won