When your a child, you fear a monster under the bed.
Or maybe an intruder in the closet.
But for me, when I was young, I feared the monster that wasn't imaginary.
This monster didn't hide under the bed or in my closet.
This monster lived in my house, and wasn't an intruder to my home, but instead to my body.
My body was no longer my own,
stolen for ones own pleasure and against my will I suffered silently.
But we are the strong ones.
We are the survivors.
The warriors that stand tall above the rest of the sheltered world, because we know how cruel life can be.
This way we are able to trudge through life instead of crawl like the rest of the girls and boys that never had to endure what we have.
All because of our eyes that have been opened due to the cruelty this world has brought upon us.
But this is not a curse but a gift if we know how to use it.
Because in the end, we will be the last ones standing.
***
Shoutout to my sister who writes beautiful poetry on her own account
bitchypoets
YOU ARE READING
REALITY
PoetryPoetry for those few souls that long for realness our world lacks Written not for reads but a place where I can write my feelings so I can attempt understand them myself. ••• To the boy that changed me. Heartbreak or not, you will live on in my burn...
