I try to get in her head
Tell her she's ok
There were so many doubts...
Hair, waiste, skin, feet, eye, voice
All of it. None of it.
Her mother was no where
She was there, but not
Where she was needed.
She needed someone herself,
So it's easy to forgive...
Forgetting is too, when you're genuine.

Boys made her feel better.
Special, loved, noticed. Man,
I'm sad for her now.
Knowing what I know now,
Poor child.
The break down of the tribe.
No women to guide this young
Woman. Alone, most days. Quite
Naturally, unless anxiety set in.
Or I just really like you.

So I struggle to write about
Me.
Seems she couldn't be
If those days weren't seen.
I embrace what I've witnessed.
There's a message back there
I missed it . I trust her. She's guiding me
With intention.

So let's see...

Wicked dreams.
Thoughts of screaming.
Being killed in my sleep. Throat ripped
Open. Bleed in my dreams.
Being chased, watched, schemed.
Perhaps there's something here

Fear
How firm is it's grasp
Fear to be me...

I was scared to go home most days.
Hated summer vacation after a few weeks.
Longed for Mondays.
To be back in a place
I felt safe. School.
How insane. But true.

I'd look round the corner,
Hoping the lot was empty of red,
Maybe even he was dead.
He never died. He lied. They did.
So disrespectfully.
And to a kid?
Could have just kept some things
Private... Anyways,

It's the way it was.
I remember the Simpsons
More than feeling love.
Mom always seemed distant.
As I am now.
Best advice ! Go out and get it out!
Come back clean and focused
And ready to heal
The next.
They are here now watching,
Preparing poems of the future.
Alright let's get it all out...

Circumstances are
That you don't know if
It's you or someone else

Influence runs too deep

I remember being so young
Being taken control
Overcome by the glances
And passes of boys
They passed and I learned

I've been a man before, perhaps
More than once
And here I am, at the edge
Of toppling over
Or seeing,
Just me. In all my glory.

I've been a woman too.
She's with me now.
She is aware of the wind stirring
Around my nest, the beads of sweat
Piercing through my skin.
Slowly, seemingly from nowhere
But there!
But there she is. And he is...
Well the teams all here.

I was a dancer then.
Then he touched my body
And it tensed,
And has never quite been the same.
The quest of womanhood
Marked by abortion
And heartbreak.
So young, not a soul there.
The beginning of my lonely days.

But the boys still called
They round the back
Slipped in and out
Quicker than I realized.
They, and their hard *****.
Most did the job, well.
Or maybe I'm just sensitive...
Regardless, I rarely slept alone.
But it was still cold.
These guys had just enough
Something
To peak interest for a moment
In time.

I was always in control,
On the outside...
A few times I freaked.
I replay foolish ways,
Nights.

And when asked to write,
I suppose I still don't fully see.
My faith maintains a certain
Balance.
Self torture is a beast, but
If energy is not provided
That **** shrivels, loses steam.
I mean, I,
I...