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Emily Feb 2020
Alone. I am alone. They say they understand
They say that we’ve all been through it. Have we?
They couldn’t possibly understand.
Guy after guy, used and abused me.
You’d think everyone would see right through me
But, they can’t.

I built up these walls,
I protected myself, I found something safe.
How safe was too safe, did I make my walls too tall?
I just wanted a place to be safe and make
A space where I was stable so I could take
A look at my life and say

How did I get here.
From a series of poems and stories I'm writing called A True Story.
Emily Feb 2020
One, two, three, four,
Stop. Start again.
One, two, three, four,
No. That’s simply impossible.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Four?
One in four women go through this.
At least that’s what they say.
Four men did this to me.
Four men don’t matter.
It only takes one to become another statistic.
From a series of stories and poems I'm writing called A True Story.

Those who have experienced trauma, know it's never too late to step forward. I stand with you.
Emily Feb 2020
2am
It’s too late
3am
It’s too late
4am
It’s too late
5.. Stop
You should’ve taken your pills.
It’s too late now.
It wasn’t too late the first time.
I needed to wake up early
You needed to sleep
I take my pills.
2pm
3pm
4pm
5.. What happened?
Emily Feb 2020
Three years feels like a long time, until it’s over.
Panic... Panic.. Panic. I call my mother.
Honey, he got out three days ago.
What do you mean?
He’s out.
Panic.
Pa...
My pills.
I take one, two.
I fall asleep, the next day starts.
I wake up and pretend nothing is different.
Three years was a long time, and now it’s over.
From a series of stories and poems I'm writing called A True Story

— The End —