My body is MY body
But I don't feel it is.
Because they have thought my body was theirs to criticize.
Because she had thought my body was safe in the fire, while my body burned
for
eighteen
years.
Because he told my body that my body is his to abuse.

I believed them.
And her.
And him.

Dabbing cover up on my face to cover up the pain from him.
Hearing her words,
you are fine.
Smear it in.
They can't see me cry.

I release the pain when nighttime comes.
When darkness and my body turn into one.
"Someone needs to teach your body a lesson"
are the words that keep screaching,
like the sound of innocent prey being feasted upon.

My body is convinced that he was right.
So I seek out ways to end my life.

Victimized,
but my body survived.
When will my body know that it is mine?
Mine to honor, protect, and love.
I've been in the fire,
I've burned for too long.
I keep touching the fire.
I can't stop.
Because,
the fresh burns will always be less painful than the lasting scars.