this message may be offensive
Just made a new part to my Sanctified poems series, but I feel like I need to elaborate the newest poem “Dont Listen to the Flannel-Backed Lion”. Some may understand me, but this is a SA experience I went through. I just feel the need to explain it since it’s more a story than a poem— a story in which is coded so that only I can understand some bits and pieces.
Many may know the person I’m talking about— and I will publicly call him out on this because I don’t want anyone else to go through what I and many other people had thanks to him; Ayden Miller. I fucked up big time, but I never consented to him touching me. I never said no though either. Sometimes after going without attention for a long time, you begin to like the little times you do get it. Again, this incident was completely my fault in my eyes, and again— I didn’t see how terrible he was at the time but I do now. I hate him. Hate him for how badly he screwed with my head, and I hate how obsessively he tried to contact me after the fact too. But, whatever.
Flannel backed lion. He always wore a red flannel sweater, which he used to give to me. I remember that. I hate red flannels now. Lion? Predator. Him? Sexual predator. You know the deal.
I really don’t feel like I can go any further atm, but feel free to ask any questions on the poem below if you wish; I’ll answer.