Poems for the Pained

Thoughts Of A Pained Poet

They told me that it wasn't my fault.
They called me a victim,
Said that I did nothing wrong.
Yet the nightmares still come,
I can still feel his cold hands on my body,
I can still see exactly what happened.

His face appears on the head of everyone I see
And I feel like I am stuck in a never-ending loop of sorrow.

He doesn't know what he has done wrong.
He doesn't know that at night I sleep in button-downs to hide the marks he has left.

I didn't say no.
I never once said stop.
That night was the scariest of my entire life,
And he doesn't realise.

My friends want to hurt him.
My friends that were once his,
Before this happened.

He was sweet,
I thought he cared.
I was wrong.
I should have known from the start,
From the jokes,
The side glances.
I should have been careful,
Should have held my keys in my fist,
Should have spoken up.
But I didn't,
And this is the price I pay.

I want to kill myself.
But I do not want to die.
I just want it to stop,
I want his face to leave and the memories to evaporate.

I want that night to be plucked from my brain and the marks to dissipate.
But they won't.

And I know that this is long,
I know that this is sad,
It is meant to be.
For writing let's the thoughts escape me for a short while.
It let's me re-live that night in a glorified manner,
In the only way I can without it consuming me.

I still feel sad,
It still haunts me.
But now it is out there,
It is here.
It's just lying around for me to admire,
For me to forget if that's what I want.
I am not the best poet,
But I write to help myself.
And I hope that it helps others too.