Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2021
I am not going to tell you
what happened to me.

Because it will only
break your heart.

You might blame yourself.

And mother,
that would be a shame.

A man did this,
with his own two hands.

A society missed this,
with its averted gaze.

Genetics did this,
to us doe-eyed
and aesthetic.

You are not to blame.
I am not to blame.
We, women, are not to blame
some deep ****. tell me trauma ain't generational
Irate Watcher
Written by
Irate Watcher  30/F/Denver
Please log in to view and add comments on poems