i have to show the world that what you three did to me only scratched my surface,
only took off the shiny layer of myself that i had previously perfected for the eyes of society’s critical audience.
but you didn’t.
you’ve broken my soul
and torn my heart
and punctured my lungs
and i’m finding it harder to live and breathe every single day.
people think that the pain caused by an experience like this lives and dies in the moment that it happens,
but those people are sincerely wrong.
it's been three hundred and twenty-seven days since it happened,
since each of you violated me
and took advantage of me
and abused my right to consent.
but i bet you didn’t know that those days equate to seven thousand, eight hundred and forty-eight hours that it’s been on my mind
and i bet you didn’t know that the nightmare is now burned into my skin
and flowing through my blood
and coded into my dna.
the constant feeling that my body is no longer mine will not leave.
the feeling that i’m missing a part of myself is going to stick with me.
the feeling that my heart strings are severed,
that my lungs have burst,
that my legs can no longer carry the weight of my newly found burden
and that my life has been tainted by your evil touch
will never disperse.
these feelings cannot be brushed under a rug,
but i’ve got to appear like they can to the outside world.
do you know what else hurts?
what also hurts is that this trauma,
the same trauma that is making me want to end my life,
constantly hoping that the last of my heart strings will break so that my heart can plummet to the depths of my destroyed soul to lay with my sanity,
is being used to mock me.
as if my life could be forced into further submission without the teasing and bullying of my peers.
thank you,
to the three boys that took my innocence,
turned my meaning of the word ‘no’ into ‘yes’
and made my body into a lighthouse as a guide for the devil.
he’s found me.
you’ve broke me.
you win.

Every morning,
I awake with
your name
on my lips.

I was caught
“In a new look!”
The first day at work!
He said, the courteous friend!
Even before he captured it
I was there, stand (ing) still!

The waves
Are not seen,
Under the veneer
Of a toughened smile
The centre is learning to be calm
As I keep dates in my palm
And move on…

I open my sketch book,
flip through the tattered pages
I flip halfway and examine the page's contents.

                                                      ­                                                      8.9.15
    ­                                                 Oh god..
                                              She makes me...
                                                      Happy­.
                                                       -S.B.R

Upon flipping through the notes,
I notice she is embedded in many,
before I ever noticed I was in love.
I don't have the best luck when it comes to love,
though I find myself writing ****** love songs about her.

                                                           ­                                                      7.16.15  
                                                    (4:24 A.M)                                
                            ­                         "Oh god,
                        her beauty leaves me with lack of words,
                  when I see her smile the rest of the world is blurred..."
                                                    -­S.B.R

She gives me hope love is worth it,
******* if her smile doesn't send my heart in a fit.
But like I said, I don't have the best luck with love
so however it ends,
I make sure make sure to write this last letter.

       Dear God,
                                    MAKE SURE she's happy..
                                                    -S.B.­R

I said I can do it
I was on a four month roll
I had it all
Then I joined the old group
And they had what I was deprived of
I thought I liked being away from it
But once I smelt it
I was back to it
Wanting it
Loving it
Inhale, exhale
Uphill, next hill
Pocket dragon me, blazer.