It's not a weapon,
but it could be.
I want to S T R I K E a match,
toss it,
and watch the truth
B U R N you down...
every lie you told,
every mask you wore,
every copy of your Christian newsletter,
every tape of your sermons
B U R N like they're in the same hell
you left me in.
Fire climbing over the walls you built
to keep the truth out.
Flames melting the armor you wear
to protect your image as golden.
Soon everyone will know
exactly who you are,
exactly what you did.
Because soon I will find my voice
buried in that dark basement room
where you took it from me
and I will S C R E A M
the truth
until the sound waves
puncture your ear drums
and the
very
last
sound
you
hear
will be my voice naming you as
my R A P I S T .
You thought you
D E S T R O Y E D
me.
Little did you know...
You built me.
T O U C H by T O U C H
you turned me from a loving little girl
into an angry adult woman.
You thought you W O N ,
but don't you know?
You've always been a
L O S E R .