Monsters in your diaphragm you scream out your rhymes so loud trying to find a spell strong enough that will expel these hiccups putting spaces in your words.
Tying your tongue up in knots writer's block has got you hooked up to an IV flowing creativity.
Like a ****** addict trying to forget the screams. IV pumping fluid into his veins repressing the memories. Trying to dig them into the mud but you see when you do that they just harden over time get stuck in your memory like scars on the suicidal mental patient trying to cut her jugular.
See I've been to a mental hospital. You share secrets of how the wet towels give you friction burns and leave scars deeper than your nails can. Like on the transgender girl, Staff referring to her with her former pronoun, I swear I've never see a deeper mental breakdown.
They all regret everything they've seen. hid what happened to them deep inside. But let me tell you. I've been *****. It wasn't in a dark alley, I wasn't hog-tied and no gun was held to my head. But it was just as traumatizing. I know that the way he took my body and made it his was wrong. But his abuse is mine. What he did to me is mine. I can hold the anger I have in my hand, squish it like play dough. I can shape it into a knife and stab him deeper than he injected me with his controllingness.
Moral of this ****** up poem is to let it out. Understand that **** happens and it ******* ***** and none of it was your fault. But do not let it control you. The situation held you in bounds for as long as it could. Do not stay with your hands behind your back just because you're scared the handcuffs are still there. You can take the memories so deep in your mind and make them cement underneath your feet as ground to stand on. Grow bigger than you ever have. And let your abuser know it's because they broke you. You just fixed your bones with titanium, and now they can't touch you.
I wrote this awhile ago, and I recently just found it. It's rough but, enjoy :)