I want pain
I need pain
Not the pain on the inside
I need physical pain
So that maybe,
just maybe,
I won't remember
the pain on the inside.

I don't know what's wrong with me.
Right now, I'm too aware of my unscathed skin.
I want to pierce it, I want to tear it.
To see if my emotions will seep out,
so that I won't have to deal with them

I always mess up.
Somehow. Someway.
Each and every time.
I accidentally hurt you.
I don't mean to.
I never mean to.
Yet I cannot find the proper words
to convey that I am not abandoning you.
to convey that I am not against you.
It's overwhelming.
Overwhelming to the point
that a knife to the stomach is preferable.
For maybe it would provide
more release than temporarily solving the problem.
A permanent fix.

Every time a man gets too close
I'm brought back to those memories.
Memories of when He touched me.
A mere 12 years old,
lying asleep in bed.
So scared to utter a word,
too terrified to tell mommy.

Every time another woman confides in me,
I'm brought back to those memories.
Memories of when He hid in the walls.
Watching a little girl change,
thinking of what He'd do later.
Too selfish and perverted
to realize the impact He'd have on her.

Every time a boy gets too close,
I'm brought back to those memories.
Memories of when He had touched me.
When He had gotten too close; too handsy.
I cannot unfeel what he did,
Not even after 5 years.
The scar is forever sealed under my skin.

Every time I see that car,
I'm brought back to those memories.
Memories of Him and His Molestation.
And I cannot help but to wish
that somehow, some way, He had been arrested.
But instead, the man walks free.
And now He lives in a house of little girls,
and the blame rests on me.