#thingsiwrite

I throw myself against the wall

I can’t help but let these tears fall

My skin is fragile like porcelain, shattered

In my past all the shards were scattered

I’ve been trying to reassemble 

Those monsters took the pieces while I trembled

I’ve been desperately searching for a way to fix it

Nothing seems to fit, I don’t fit

I thought if I contributed to the pain

If I helped them break me, made my blood rain

Then maybe I would be able to understand why 

Years later I still can’t find a remedy 

Although I am stronger now, for myself I can fight 

There is still darkness in the light

In my skin I see the cracks will always remain

All I see in everyone’s eyes is disdain

I can’t shake this feeling that I will never be good enough

That I will only ever feel hands that are rough

That a gesture as kind as a hug will never have good intentions

That I will only see damaged goods in the reflection

I’m fine, I’ll be okay, I’ve survived Hell

in increments, she seeps in; like invitations to this pity party were sent in cryptic parts - she didn’t know when to show up and when to leave

and in the sun she tells me i’m worth buckets of what i was in the cold, and she puts herself “in my shoes” and says it could have been worse and then i tell her she never looked after me so what can she tell me about my body and it’s value (that never seems to rise) and she shouts and tells me irrational thinking will be the death of me

it doesn’t take long for me to tell her, that she is all of my insecurity bundled into something i had to breathe life into because i did not want to take the blame for my own self destruction.

for all i am is because she is and she will never stop being whilst i am too - and all my thoughts merge into those cryptic invitations.

when you feel dirty dirty dirty she gets down with you. the guilt pierces the roof of your mouth. i am so tainted, her piercings feel a fiery flavour of numb.

The truth I hold took years to unfold, locked up and never told. Now I speak, for I am done being weak. I think back to when it happened, that awful day The day he took "it" away.

To this day I feel him, his tight grip on my wrists the pressure of his body, as I tried to resist.

My heart was a two ton brick in my fist That kept me pinned to the exact spot on the ground he wanted me to be in. Holding back panicked breaths like other kids held stuffed animals Sinister smiling eyes, venom spit splashed across my limbs. Years later my sheets are still soaked, trembling with the sound of my own frozen voice.

Wandering the streets, giving myself to men with sheets. Crying while we fuck, gasping for air the more they struck. If I didn't say no, then maybe I could have some control. I gave myself for free, it was him that broke me. No respect for myself, no metal to place on a shelf. Falling down to dirt, clothes stained, bloody skirt. The cold making me shiver, drinking vodka and damaging my liver. Why should I care about my life? Here I go carving myself with a knife. Blood dripping down my thigh, hatred fills me like a high. I am not dead, just hanging by a thread. Pound my body, until my tears turn red.

All numb, can't feel a thing I can finally believe for a second... Their hands aren't his.