Feb 2014
His name sounds foreign in my ears,
I can taste his accent on my tongue,
His skin, a bittersweet blend of my favorite coffee,
His clothes baggy as if he was hiding something.
These characteristics do not,
I repeat do not, make him a terrorist.
He is a terrorist because
He crashed into my twin towers when I let my guard down.
He left me burning to the ground,
And suddenly I was awake to the thought that
Life was not as beautiful as I mused.
The sun had stopped shining,
The world had stopped spinning
And all I could feel was pain.
He is my terrorist because
I cannot sleep in my own bed
I do not feel safe in my home.
I am on maximum security,
Tighten up my boarders,
Make sure no one gets in.
Not in my mind,
Not in my heart,
And NOT in my pants.
You see, I made a mistake:
I trusted him.
I didn’t believe he could do this.
I didn’t want to believe he could do this.
But now I’m unsure
If trust is even an option anymore.
Can I trust myself
Not to take too many pain pills
Trying to ease this unsettling feeling
crawling on my body?
Can I trust someone else?
To tell or not to tell,
That is the question,
Because unlike 9/11,
10/20 was breaking news on every channel.
It was kept hidden from the scrutinizing eyes
Who said I was asking for it
Who said we were "dating"
Who said that I wanted it.
Next on the 6 o’ clock news,
Local college freshman says
She wants to be *****,
Just looking for the right guy to do it,
When she’s drunk and alone
In the middle of the night.
She’ll leave the door unlocked
Because she forgot.
So if she doesn’t answer when you knock
Come on in.
She wants it.
And after you do what you do
I will wonder if life is even worth it
As I search for my pants in the dark.
And I will cry, more tears than I knew possible.
And I will pray,
Because like any good Catholic knows:
We pray when we need something,
And dear lord, I need answers.
Why?
Why did he think this was okay?
And what can I do to feel okay?
I don’t want to feel great,
Not even good,
I just want to feel okay
Again.
He is my terrorist
And I am ready to wage war.
Although I am afraid of how many casualties will be lost
Or how the average American views my war.
I know this is a war that needs to be fought.
And it needs to be fought sooner than later,
Because maybe I am preemptively saving
The next country from this
****** extremist
I can taste his accent on my tongue,
His skin, a bittersweet blend of my favorite coffee,
His clothes baggy as if he was hiding something.
These characteristics do not,
I repeat do not, make him a terrorist.
He is a terrorist because
He crashed into my twin towers when I let my guard down.
He left me burning to the ground,
And suddenly I was awake to the thought that
Life was not as beautiful as I mused.
The sun had stopped shining,
The world had stopped spinning
And all I could feel was pain.
He is my terrorist because
I cannot sleep in my own bed
I do not feel safe in my home.
I am on maximum security,
Tighten up my boarders,
Make sure no one gets in.
Not in my mind,
Not in my heart,
And NOT in my pants.
You see, I made a mistake:
I trusted him.
I didn’t believe he could do this.
I didn’t want to believe he could do this.
But now I’m unsure
If trust is even an option anymore.
Can I trust myself
Not to take too many pain pills
Trying to ease this unsettling feeling
crawling on my body?
Can I trust someone else?
To tell or not to tell,
That is the question,
Because unlike 9/11,
10/20 was breaking news on every channel.
It was kept hidden from the scrutinizing eyes
Who said I was asking for it
Who said we were "dating"
Who said that I wanted it.
Next on the 6 o’ clock news,
Local college freshman says
She wants to be *****,
Just looking for the right guy to do it,
When she’s drunk and alone
In the middle of the night.
She’ll leave the door unlocked
Because she forgot.
So if she doesn’t answer when you knock
Come on in.
She wants it.
And after you do what you do
I will wonder if life is even worth it
As I search for my pants in the dark.
And I will cry, more tears than I knew possible.
And I will pray,
Because like any good Catholic knows:
We pray when we need something,
And dear lord, I need answers.
Why?
Why did he think this was okay?
And what can I do to feel okay?
I don’t want to feel great,
Not even good,
I just want to feel okay
Again.
He is my terrorist
And I am ready to wage war.
Although I am afraid of how many casualties will be lost
Or how the average American views my war.
I know this is a war that needs to be fought.
And it needs to be fought sooner than later,
Because maybe I am preemptively saving
The next country from this
****** extremist
