I swear there is more to me than this.
A week ago I couldn't spell my name out in anything but numbers and  commas , no full stop

See someone once told me begging isn't the same as praying but in my 19years of life I've spent too many days silently whispering please don't switch of the outside light , mama I want to come , I want to come home .

See, I want to tell you something
About how I never thought I'd ever be the girl in an empty parking lot with a tremor making its way from my throat right past my knees to my ankles because right then and there , I am only a grain of sand inside a storm

And how I'm somehow standing there watching you teach me how traffic signs really mean nothing when noones watching . I'm thinking about Anine Booysens , her bruised and brutalized body and in the back of my head I'm scared no one will ever find me . I want to crawl into the damp cave of mouth and sleep between the cheek and teeth of you that speaks in vowels only and stretches your Xs and Qs.

But I'm not there , I'm here and this man is touching me ,
Oh God this man is touching me
Mama this man touched me ...

And we can't do anything about it

Mans this man touched me