my abuser was a predator,
and I'm sure he still is.

predators don't change.
they are naturally
carnivorous creatures.

they are all the same.
it must be one monster
inhabiting millions
of human bodies,

and that monster seems
impossible to ****.

he enjoys draining
the life from his prey.

he has an
insatiable appetite

and a sweet tooth
for my innocence.

he uses the salty
taste of my tears
to season his meal.

and when he finally
sinks his teeth
into my skin,

the force of his jaws
crack open my skull.

he leaves a bite mark
on my brain itself.

he's inhuman.
he's soulless.
he feels no pain.
he has no remorse.

it's too late for me.
he's already bitten,
and his jaws are
difficult to pry off.

but it's not too late
for all of those women
that this monster
is busy luring in.

if you are out there,
please save them.

another child
will be taken
and forced to
grow up overnight.

another woman
will lose her life.

these women
are everywhere.

if you know one,
please, help her
to run away.

if you are one,
please, leave and
don't look back.

there is no
human heart
inside of a monster.

you cannot change him.
you can only leave,
and change yourself.

I constantly complain
about my hatred for society

because a few years ago,
I tried to **** myself.

the only souvenirs
I brought home
weren't purchased
in the hospital gift shop.

they were etched
into my body,
unwanted
but permanent.

I will never
give birth now.
I'll never hold
a child in my womb,
and it's possible
that I'll never hold
a child in my arms.

my body no longer
functions like that.
I'm broken.

and the worst part
is not having
anyone to blame.
I did this to myself.

a few days ago,
I talked to my brother
on the phone, and

I told him I was thankful
for my suicide attempt.

he was confused
because that day hurt me.
it destroyed me.
it broke me.

if that day
had never happened,
I'd have no scars and
I could still have children
and right now,
I wouldn't be writing
this sad poem.

but I wasn't lying to him.

despite how utterly
horrible it's been,
and despite how
it still affects me,

I am thankful
for my suicide attempt.

because if I still
had to call my friends
panicking over
a late period,

if I still had to worry
about that every month,

I might only be eating
one meal a day.

I might have to
sell my old jewelry.

I might resort to
stealing money.

I wouldn't want to
but if I didn't,
I would never be able
to afford tampons.

I am grateful
for my infertility,
and for almost dying,

because I know that I
wouldn't have the money
to pay for tampons.

that's ****** up.

and somehow
you're still wondering
why I hate our society.

my father hates me
because I remind him
of my mother,

and he hates that
he fell in love with her
only for it to end
the way that it did.



my mother hates me
because I am
my father's daughter,

and she hates that he
believed there was romance
when all it was to her was
a warm body and a fun night.



my father hates me
because he hates my mother.

my mother hates me
because she hates herself.



my parents never failed
to make me feel unwanted,

but now I realize that
it wasn't about me.

they wanted children.
what they didn't want
was each other.

their hatred for one another
outweighed their love for us.



I know now that
all of that pain was aimed
at each other.

it ricocheted off of
the walls I tried to build
to protect myself,
and it hit us instead.

it hurt me so badly

but I realize now that
it was never my fault.

I'm not expecting
to go to heaven.

the truth is that
I don't even
want to die.

I just want to
be someone new
with a fresh start.

I just want to
leave this life behind.

if I have to die to leave,
I can't promise you
that I won't.

I need to leave.
I need to go

to heaven or hell
or a forgotten town
off the grid somewhere.
I don't care.
I just need to go.

anywhere but here...
anywhere but here...
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