How can something so painful,
Be so beautiful at the same time?
These thoughts washed over my mind
While the bath water washed over my scars,
A remembrance of destructive times in my life
Everyday I put on clothes, I am reminded
Of the pain he caused me
But the pain comes and goes
Like he often did before;
Came and went as he pleased,
Used me to his advantage.
Every time he did, he took pieces of myself away with him.
He took and took
Until there were no more pieces to take;
Because, to his delight, they'd already been stolen
From him of course.
All at the blossoming, ripe age of thirteen.