You ask again for words that will explain
What made me who I am,
But I can’t find them,
And you wouldn’t want to hear them anyway.

To what end would your knowledge be?

For what purpose
Do you need to be told
In clearer terms
That I had my life ripped out of me
By the same man who gave it?

That I am a shell of a person,
Living a life I never asked for,
And don’t want.

What good would that be?

Can you find a way to fix wounds,
To take back scars?

You ask again for words that will explain,
How I came to be so
Arrogant
Manipulative
Repulsive
And I have no reply -
My armour is too strong for even I to break.
If I were to look through the visor,
I think that I might find
A scarred and blackened girl,
Sure that she is dead,
For her cage could only be hell.

And again you ask for words.

And again I have none.

How can I articulate the way I’ve been
Hollowed out,
Except to say that

There is nothing worth knowing here.