Men make me sick
I almost wish they didn't exist
Who could ever predict?
A tragedy such as this
In my own home
While alone
Tears soak the same pillow where he once laid his head
Everyday I am forced to sleep in the same damn bed
Where I once drew blood of my attacker
Why did I shower later after?
Stupid.
So the only evidence they had were my clothes and his blood on my sheets
He was released after a few weeks
I found out the news and tears watered my cheeks
“It’s your body's’ way of protecting you.”
I was told
as I felt the singeing handprint of my mother burn into my thigh.
It’s my body’s way of protecting me.
I remind myself
as I feel his hands all over me
in the middle of the night
when i can only think about the yellow street light
that filtered in
and cascaded over his large frame
like water pouring unexpectedly
from the sky.
“It’s my body’s way of protecting me.”
I explain to the one person who can touch me
I could've been nothing soul undone,
But I had a calling, a meaning, a function.
I had to get better I believe in significance,
And I'm well aware that genius is a universe, some might say.
It is rumoured that the minute you are satisfied is when you fade away
I stumbled forward,
The door was open,
I slid headfirst into the deepest, darkest ocean.
Suddenly exposed like a firefly in the night,
But feeling the fire within,
I've suddenly worked out there's a storm underneath my skin.
