“You look like my daughter” The man says to me, As he’s ordering me a drink Looking my body up and down.
I laugh, Look away, Try to pretend he didn’t say that
Oh but don’t worry He made it a point to mention T H R E E M O R E T I M E S how my body Resembled his daughters, “Tight, perfect, the right kind”
Oof. Idk y’all Idk that I can do this. I walk away I dont make that money. Even though I know **** well, I fit his ****** up fantasies.
Not to mention I’m triggered, Thanks to my childhood trauma, By all of this conversation, But it doesn’t really matter Anyways. Just a product of my environment Just an object to fill The desires Of hungry eyes.
**** it Let me be An empty *** doll. Just take my intelligence with you please. Flowers for Algernon , And I’m wilting. I’m too aware of my place in society.
Why strive to peruse my education, When I know no one will hire me Because of my background? Why stay sober, When my ******* flashbacks Only stop when I’m drunk?
I hate my life. No I don’t like the job I have; But this **** ain’t easy.
And none of it is my fault. It isn’t. None of my trauma is my fault.
At least At the end of the day I have the comfort Of knowing, That I matter just as little as the next person. My life, In all of its glory, matters just as little as john f Kennedy’s I am nothing And we are nothing