"ONE IN THREE WOMEN ARE VICTIMS OF ****** ASSAULT." They say.
I am sat. Awestruck.
"LOOK TO YOUR LEFT AND LOOK TO YOUR RIGHT. ONE OF YOU IS A VICTIM OF ****** ASSAULT."
I look to the woman on my left.
I look to the woman on my right.
I look to the front.
Avoid any eye contact.
Keep a straight face.
Don't give anything away.
How dare they out me like this?
The woman to my left knows that she hasn't.
The woman to my right knows that she hasn't.
That leaves me.
Raw and exposed.
I did not give consent for this to be shared.
This was my secret.
My ***** little secret that I do not want to have but I do despite.
Did they plan this?
They must have known.
There must be a seating plan somewhere.
Someone did some digging around.
But how?
I told no one.
This was my secret.
My ***** little secret that I do not want to have but do despite.
Anger creeps up inside.
Avoid any eye contact.
Keep a straight face.
Don't give anything away.
Pain.
I dig my nails into the palm of my hand and I squeeze.
Blood is drawn.
I look down at my hand.
The woman on my left does the same.
Cover it quick.
I look forward.
They are still talking.
I process nothing.
Avoid any eye contact.
Keep a straight face.
Don't give anything away.
They are still talking.
Focus.
Concentrate.
What are they saying?
Finally I tune back in to their closing line,
Reiterating their first point:
"ONE IN THREE WOMEN ARE VICTIMS OF ****** ASSAULT."

Do you remember those days before when we were care free?

Before when nothing mattered other than what adventure we'd go on next?

Before we had to worry about real world problems?

Before we made our social media accounts?

Before we encountered that first bully?

Before mental illness bothered us?

Before we felt like we were drowning?

Before we slit our wrists that first time?

Before we got so depressed that we tried to take our own lives so many times that we lost track and failing each time and each failed time adding to that collection of scars on our bodies that, if we ever get out of this black hole, will one day look back on and wonder how everything got so bad, but maybe I won't, maybe I will be successful.

I used to read
I used to write
Songs,
Stories,
Poetry.

I used to knit
I used to sew
Plushies,
Scarfs,
Roses.

What happened to the days
Where I found enjoyment from the little things?
Why is it now
That what I once loved
Feels like a chore
That tires me,
Bores me,
Makes me contemplate everything.

What happened to my carefree childhood
Where nothing mattered
Other than when I could write
Songs,
Stories,
Poetry?
When I uses to knit and sew
Plushies,
Scarfs,
Roses?

What happened?
And why?

Erm...
I'm sorry...
I...
I just...
Sorry...
Uh...
Sorry...

The feeling when you tell them you love them
And they don't say it back
The hole in the heart
The punch in the chest
That nothing can repair
Even if they say it in the future
You will always remember
The one time they didn't say it back.

man once said to woman:
you fight like a girl
and she replied:
and you fight like a man
and he said:
that is because i am one
and she said:
exactly
and he looked confused
and she said:
i fight like a girl because i am one

tender beatings
delicate bones
beautiful tears
comforting pain
consented ****
willing victim

.esnes sekam lla ti dna

I need you to text first
Just one time
I always go first and it makes me feel like ****
Like you don't care
Like nobody cares
Perhaps nobody does?
Maybe I'm just not a likeable person?
Maybe I'm just the secret keeper, the agony aunt?
Dump your **** on me and leave
Just to rub it in
You're not the only one
Others do it too
Which makes it worse
Perhaps I'm destined to be alone?
But maybe,
Just maybe
There's a tiny glimmer of hope.

The fear
The terror
The nightmares
Every night
Always the same
I'm afraid
I'm so afraid
And I don't know why
I have no bad history
No reason to be afraid
And yet I am
So very afraid

Dear Sleep,
Please, I'm begging you, stop torturing me.
I can scarce remember the last time my slumber was peaceful
And it's killing me
Slowly
And painfully.
So please, I beg of you, make it stop.

Five years go by
Me and my best friends
Or so I thought
Fake fake fake fake...
All of them
Pretending to care
Me trusting them
Had I known it possible to lie like that
For five years and no less
I'd have kept my mouth shut
Secrets shared
Would have never been told
This is a learning curve
(As one might say)
That one should never hand out trust like leaflets
Trust is to be earnt
Over a long time
I had to learn this the hard way
I should have listened originally

Remembering old friends
From old photographs
Memories we must never forget
For they changed us
And made us
Into who we are today

You see me.
I can't breathe.
I'm suffocating.
You just stand there
And watch.
You hold a life line
But you refuse
To help me.
So don't breathe.
Don't breathe.
You're stealing my air.
My air.

There's something quite poetic
In the way in which a bee dies.
Once it's stung its victim,
It's almost as though it can't take
That it has caused somebody else pain.
So it dies.
Just like that.

I am stuck.
I can not breathe.
I need my life support.
Please help me.
Breathe for me.
Make your heart beat for me.

Too late.

The Moon and I go way back.
She's always been there for me;
Forever watching over thee;
Lighting the way - even in the darkest of nights.
She protects me and keeps me from the sights
Of those that may want to do me harm.
She assures me that I'm safe, when embraced by her arm.
The rays of her love I forever want to keep.
She watches over me when I sleep,
And even during the day, when the sun is shining bright,
I know that she is still there, just out of sight.

Does nobody notice him
Other than me?
They must hear him cry
His tired lungs screeching
Screaming so painfully, so loudly
That nobody hears.
Can you not hear him?
He who cries.
He who screams.
He who's throat desiccated.
He who's ignored.
He who's crying out for help
But will receive none.

I thought I was ready to love again,
But what I thought was wrong.
I thought this time would be different.
I should've listened all along.

I'm so sick of being told what I can and can't do.
"You can't do this, try this instead."
They aren't asking me; they're telling me.
I don't want to do that, I want to do what I said I wanted to do before.
Then I'm told that I am an ungrateful *****, a spoilt brat, a miserable cow,
When in reality I'm not.
I'm not an"ungrateful *****".
I'm not a "spoilt brat".
I'm not a "miserable cow".
I'm a strong, independent woman who knows what she wants, and is constantly told "no".

I am like cheap nail polish;
When first applied into a person's life I appear fresh, neat, immaculate.
But the next day I am chipped, broken, hurting.
It's not you, it's just the way you see me.
I put on a fresh coat to please you and make me seem fine.
But it's no good.
I'm not fine.
The new coats won't hide me forever.
Tomorrow is a new day.
Tomorrow I'll apply a fresh coat.
Tomorrow I'll be fine again.

Love.
Love is supposedly this amazing thing -
So why is it that I'm left in tears?
Love triggers immense feelings -
But nobody warned me about the painful ones.

So I made my decision -
To not love again,
But then you turn up and mess with my head.
How dare you?
No.
I will not feel these immense feelings,
Because I know that if I do,
The pain will shortly follow
And I can't deal with that again.
If my heart breaks one more time nothing will be able to fix it.

"The female body is a beautiful thing."
How dare you suggest such a thing?!
The female body is not designed for romantic beauty - no
It is designed for pleasure,
The pleasure of every man out there.
Even if the woman eyes out women rather than men,
Man will still take pleasure,
But as a fetish - as a kink.

*****.
The bigger, the more painful.
But who cares?!
The bigger the better.
With ******* designed for flicking and ******* on in order to "turn her on"
Do you forget what their initial purpose is?
Do you forget the pain she went through to birth her children?
And the struggle of breast feeding?
Of course not.
You just don't care.

"The female body is a beautiful thing."
Yes it is beautiful - **** even.
Designed for the pleasure of men.
Shaved as smooth as the women men watch not so secretly.
*** is not supposed to be enjoyed by the woman - she is the enjoyment, the entertainer.
Womankind is not designed to be loved nor cherished.
Womankind is designed for *** and nothing more than that.

Let me tell you something: everything that you just read is not true - and yet this is what today's young people are being taught.
Girls believe that they cannot be popular without being sexualized; they wear revealing clothing, send nudes and will even go as far as having *** just to feel beautiful.
And even then she will be called a *****, a ****, a *****.
Girls are being taught that this is normal - that it's okay.
It is not okay.
Girls should not feel that they have to give their all to everyone and keep nothing for themselves.
Girls should be able to feel happy and positive on their own - without being told that they are **** by some ***** middle aged man.

So here is my message to every girl out there:
You are beautiful* and don't let anyone tell you differently.
Don't let society pressure you into doing, saying or wearing certain things that you are uncomfortable with.
Don't let men use and manipulate you.
Your body is *your property and nobody else's and it is not designed to be sexualized by men.
One day you will find the love of your life who will protect and cherish you and treat you the way you deserve.
But always remember:
Be true to yourself and be happy.

This.
This is not healthy.
What I feel is not okay.
And yet I still feel this way.
It's not even like I'm unaware of it -
I still have the scars from the last time.
You ruined my life and I hate you for that.
And yet I still feel this way.
Every time I see you the butterflies awaken.
I know it's not a sick feeling -
I wish it was.
I wish I didn't still care.
'Just friends', I always say.
Who am I trying to convince?
I tell myself:
"I don't care."
"I don't care."
"I don't care."
And yet I still feel this way.
I don't want to.
The scars that linger seem to fly away when you're around.
How can one so young be so dominated?
I don't know...
And yet I still feel this way.

Before me stands a 'mirror',
Before my eyes open,
You tell me to prepare myself,
For I am about to see my reflection-
A live image of myself.
So I open my eyes.
And I scream.
And I run.
For what I see is not who I am.

I awoke that morning in an empty bed
No sign you'd been here - might as well have been dead
I reached for my cell and dialed your number
Yet all that was there was white noise to cease slumber
I pressed my face into the pillow where your head once rested
And yet your scent had already faded
As I sat up and looked around I saw nothing
Nothing but cobwebs and faded photographs of my young self playing.
Where have you gone to now?
Wait... nevermind, you never existed anyhow.

Don't love me tender,
And don't love me sweet,
Or here's an idea:
Why not retreat?

Please don't apologise,
Please don't come back for me,
I have to move on now,
But I'm isolated,
You've trapped me and I'm stuck,
Why won't you let me go?
Is it because you care?
If so, you don't show it.
Hitting, slapping, ******...
That's not how to love.
That is how to abuse.

Now, do as I say.
Don't make a sound.
Don't move a muscle.
That's how I want you to stay forever.

If only you could see me now;
See how wrong you were.;
Maybe you'd realize you weren't always right.
I told you how I felt;
You said it was a phase.
I told you what I knew;
You said it was a lie.
Everything I said, you turned it to a contradiction.
And I hated it.
Every last second of it.
So you know what?
I'm glad you're gone.
It means that I no longer have to deal with your ****.

Numb.
Numb.
Numb.
Numb.
I am a robot. I have no emotion.

Happy.
Sad.
Ecstatic.
Depressed.
I am not a robot. I have emotions.

I guess you could say this is my goodbye;
I can't continue anymore.
I'm sorry.
You would understand if you were in my position,
But you're not,
So you won't.
To this person and that person: I love you.
To you: live a full and happy life;
Forget me;
Move on.
This is the here and now.
I may be gone, but you're not.
Stay strong, don't cry over me - I'm not worth it.

I asked you to stop,
You didn't.
You continued,
Purposely hurting me each time.
I wish you'd stop.
I wish you'd stopped a long time ago.
Why don't I just leave?
I should've done.
That would've been the smart thing to do.
But I can't,
Because no matter how badly I'm hurt,
I still love you.

Have I gone mad?
Probably.
Is it normal to converse with one's self?
Probably not.
Oh... well that's just too bad.
People don't know what they're missing out on.
Exactly; trust no one.
Not even yourself...
I must bottle it up inside.
Yes. I must.
But it will tear me apart.
It will tear me apart.
But it's what must be done.
It's what must be done.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.

Two dead girls go out to play,
They swing on the swings;
Slide down the slide;
Hop on the hopscotch.
Scotch.
Scotch is what killed the two girls;
They weren't drinking - no,
At just six years old?!
They didn't even know what being drunk meant!
It was just the norm for them.
Mum died during child birth;
Never even knew the pair,
Was not even aware that there would be two of them.
Dad lost it.
Driving.
Drunk driving.
Crash.
Death.
Two dead girls go out to play.
Two dead girls.

"You have cold turkey." They said
I never knew what they meant by that.
"I have no such thing; I'm a vegetarian."
They said it has nothing to do with meat though...
Yes I'm cold and shivering,
But why 'cold turkey'?
"Your skin feels clammy: like a turkey." They said,
But I wouldn't know; never eaten one in my life.

I hate to say what's already been said,
Yet I feel it necessary to do so;
"You're like my own personal brand of ******."
Addictive.
The more you give of yourself to me,
The more I need.
And then when you go,
With no warning,
I am left alone to deal with the shakes,
The trembles,
This cold turkey that you have left me.

Bleed me dry,
Desiccate,
I beg you;
Anything
Would be less
Torturous
Than this love
I feel for
You, you, you.

Before anything happens,
There's something you should know;
I am a heart breaker.
There.
Now you know,
Don't make me say "I told you so."

You may think me a player,
Yet that is not the case;
I may mess around a lot,
And
Not settle,
But that's only because I can't.

'But why so?' you may wonder,
Love has only hurt me;
Although there may be good parts,
It
Will always
Find a way to lash out at me.

I am a rose.
Delicate to touch;
Innocent to the core.

You crushed my head;
My sweet, soft petals;
You left me no choice;
But to stab you with daggers.

You unleashed the demon inside of me,
You removed my sugar-coat and left me naked -
Bare.
It's your fault alone that you are now hurt;
Your thick, red sin oozing all over.

It's a taste of your own medicine.

I am a rose.
Delicate head;
Innocent from the neck up.

I know nothing;
Yet I know more than you.
I own nothing;
Yet I own more than you.
I feel nothing;
Yet I feel more than you.
I love nothing;
Yet I love more than you.
My life is nothing;
Yet it's worth more than you.

Stop. Everyone stand still.
Don't move a muscle - not an inch.
Breathing: not preferable, but do as you must.
There! Stay like that. That's what we are after.
Hold in your stomach.
It must look perfect.
You don't look perfect.
Get out. Leave. Now.

Don't let them see you cry,
Don't let them see you're vulnerable,
Don't let them see how you feel,
Don't let them see you're weak.

You’re weak! I’m not weak! You don’t know what I’ve been through.
You’re weak! I’m not weak! You don’t see what I see.
You’re weak! I’m not weak! You don’t feel what I’m feeling.
You’re weak! I’m not weak!

I am invisible
And I have a temper
Most people ignore me
I'm noticed by nobody
Never listened to
Visible to nobody
I want to
SCREAM!
It wouldn't make a difference though
Because nobody would
Listen, and
Even if they did, they wouldn't care...

Homework, or battling demons?
School, or exploring abandoned houses?
People that lie to you, or people you can trust?
Crying yourself to sleep, or midnight adventures?
Sleeping alone, or cuddling until you fall asleep in their arms?
Left in silence falling into a spiral of negativity, or so much fun that you forget all the bad?

But the real question is:

The real world, or the world inside your head?

*I know which I would choose...

I'm sorry that I annoy you;
I'm sorry that I constantly message you;
I'm sorry that I still love you;
I'm sorry for being me.

When people ask why I drink, I say:
"I have struggled with the past;
I am struggling with the present;
Who are you to judge me?
You don't know me;
You don't know what I'm going through;
Who are you to judge me?"

Some may say I'm lonely - but they don't have a clue.
I have the best friend there could possibly be.
I may not be able to see him, but why should that matter?
I know that I can trust him - he won't tell a soul.
Not like "real people" who lie, cheat and snitch on you.
My friend may be nameless, but he is always here for me.
Not like you.
You come and go as you please; you hurt me and betray me.
You say "I'm just a phone call away."
Yet when I call, you never pick up.
He is always there - just a thought away;
He never lies;
Never cheats;
Never snitches.
Do you honestly blame me for having "trust issues"?
Well, that's your problem.

What is this life,
That I am living?
So much goes on,
It goes by so fast.
I'm stressed and depressed,
So I drink.
I drink and I am numb.
I drink and the problems that once were there disappear.

The people don't like me.
The people don't talk to me.
The people avoid me.

The people don't get me.
The people don't know what's going on in my head.
The people don't know that I'm dying.

The people don't know what I've been through.
The people don't know what I'm going through.
The people don't know what I'm going to go through.

They don't know me at all.