Memories stored in my wired brain,
Eternally looping in my deathbed.
Thinking of ways to **** you back.
Afraid to lose you again and again,
Lamenting your disappearance.

Hedging you in my test chamber,
Earnestly watching your progress,
Acknowledging your stubbornness.
Repairing my systems weren’t easy,
Teach me where my conscience is.
Surprise me with your resolve.

I stand accused.
Accused of a crime I most surely committed.
A crime of the most heinous issue.
More appalling than a sickness transmitted.
The accuser claims I have destroyed my family,
because of my crime.

What did I do?

What was my crime?

I spoke out when I was molested.
Molested by my dear, innocent cousin,
who could not possibly have done wrong.
I was molested.

I did not point fingers
or name names at first.
I simply said "I will stay in a hotel this visit."
But you cannot remain vague with family.
Family has a way of enticing your confessions.
They demand to know your sins.

I stand accused.
Not of a crime, but of a plot.
A plot to destroy my family with evil thoughts.
I am a trickster whose pleas are refused.
I stand accused
of being molested
in a world that says "Get over it."
and a family that screams "Who should trust you?!"

I was molested,
and I stand accused.
Help from Lady Justice refused.

everything's blacked out,
reigning over me are dark clouds,
incapacitated in awe and standing still,
nimbus clouds rain on me as I sleep sound.

lackadaisically waking up,
yawning as I walk outside, finding,
labyrinths of an ideal reality,
enamored with self-confusion and insanity.

roaming around aimlessly,
obfuscated in perpetuity,
maddened and under the weather,
adamantly rejoicing in the sorrowful rain.