dear god
*******

when i was four you didnt protect me
from the monster under my bed
in my bed i mean
because i remember my uncle touching me everywhere like i remember the freckles on my left hand and the scar on my finger

when i was ten you didnt remind me
that i was loved and needed and necessary
to the world around me

when i was twelve i started cutting
because i wanted to be like the girls in the stories i read
at night only because my parents would get mad
if they saw me tracing lines on my writs at the asscrack of dawn

when i was fifteen i was ******* my best friend
behind my boyfriends back
because i was so angry with my self
and i needed a reason

now at sixteen i think
you exist
solely for the purpose
of laughing
at me