Every time a man gets too close
I'm brought back to those memories.
Memories of when He touched me.
A mere 12 years old,
lying asleep in bed.
So scared to utter a word,
too terrified to tell mommy.

Every time another woman confides in me,
I'm brought back to those memories.
Memories of when He hid in the walls.
Watching a little girl change,
thinking of what He'd do later.
Too selfish and perverted
to realize the impact He'd have on her.

Every time a boy gets too close,
I'm brought back to those memories.
Memories of when He had touched me.
When He had gotten too close; too handsy.
I cannot unfeel what he did,
Not even after 5 years.
The scar is forever sealed under my skin.

Every time I see that car,
I'm brought back to those memories.
Memories of Him and His Molestation.
And I cannot help but to wish
that somehow, some way, He had been arrested.
But instead, the man walks free.
And now He lives in a house of little girls,
and the blame rests on me.