I am a girl with a lot of problems
His attorney tells the court
I am a whirlwind of poor coping skills
Used to deal with the trauma he may or may not have caused
I know I’m immature
I can’t help it, I’ve never thought any other way
I don’t know-how
To be different than I am now
I leave bruises on my own arms from biting myself when I’m angry
I know it’s not a good way to calm myself
But it’s the only thing I’ve come to find that helps
You know I may or may not be everything or nothing that has been said in that courtroom
That heaven smiled upon me when they chose to lock him away
My truth stood ground
But my world shattered
Every year I grow dumber
My mental health never inclines
And now I’m wondering if that is all his fault
Or is it mine?