It is a sunny day in this new world
The sun covers me and the fluorescent green of grass
Perfectly trimmed, perfectly tickling my bare legs
Into focus is the sound of boys speaking
And the outlines of bodies sitting beside me fade in and out
These are my friends, I think
And I'm suddenly very aware that they are boys
And I am not.
As many get up to leave, I'm not sure why I don't follow
Laying on my side I feel as if I could sleep within this dream
Within the warmth of this star
As I realize the presence of someone behind me
Strangers hands all over my body
A faceless perpetrator
Re-enacting the emission of a very specific kind of disgust
I've found often in my waking life
Rubbing this slime that oozes from his hands
All over my unwilling body
This time I try to yell Stop
But I can only whisper this opposition
But atleast this time
I tried.

Maybe my ex boyfriend was right, I am a *****.
I have no reason to be bored, yet I seek excitement.
I crave the forbidden instead of enjoying what I have;
Constantly craving the rush of a stranger's hand.
So far within my own head I might as well be dead to him,
The love of my life, I am afraid to lose, I am devastated
To think of such a thing, survival unlikely
If I keep living like this. but there is no off switch,
Only waves of guilt for things I've never done,
Yet have an absurd longing for.
I can't always be the center of attention;
But every second you're not touching me
I feel torn from you, and dragged miles away
But I am just a *****.

Usually I can write some stupid poetic ******* that dances around what you did to me and what I'd like to do to you
This did not make me better person
This did not help me grow
Reverting backwards and I did not come out unscathed
In fact, I'm still covered with your sins
They follow me every waking moment of my nightmare of a ******* life
I would've sacrificed myself if I could
You should have taken me and only me to satisfy your cannibalistic tendencies
but now I'm losing count of the amount of innocence lost
And its been almost three whole ******* god forsaken years
Yet everyday I find out more, keeping a file on you and the atrocities committed
A timeline in mind that plays over and over again, everytime filling in another blank
Everytime becoming fuller of rage than the day before
I'm taking the knife back.

There are people being killed in the streets
And in hot, understaffed kitchens, I am working
I am working until my body fails me
And as I fall into my dreams when I get home
Gunshots, screams and cries echo in circles
And my dreams are full of bloodied bodies
And even in my dreams I am powerless
Even in my own life I am powerless
Controlled by the need for a mere couple hundred of dollars
To feed those dear to me
As monsters bare their teeth
and spew their deadly germs all over my sweaty, exhausted body
I am paid just barely enough to buy myself a meal.
There are people being killed in the streets
Their are people dying in hospitals their families can’t afford
Hospitals that I couldn’t afford
And I am cooking food for those who can afford to eat out
I shouldn’t be feeling the burn of a hot oven on my skin
I should be feeling the burn of a hot sun on my skin
As I take to the streets
As I fight for those who are hurting
Hurting more than I can even fathom, more than I can even imagine.
It is almost the Fourth of July
And people are being killed in the streets
And I don’t even have time to cry
And as people celebrate with lights and loud bangs in the sky
People will be fearing for their lives
And children will be without their parents
And parents will be without their children
And as I grieve today
I have to wipe away my tears
I have to pull my hair away from my face
I have to put on a name tag and an apron
While people are being killed in the streets.

Here I am, 20 years of age
Still unable to enjoy a beer in a public place
Yet I sit in my best friend's apartment on a Friday night
The glow of the city life shining on me through the singular window
And in my quietness I hear the banter of people likely having lived longer than I
Drunkly sauntering in the cold
And I think I should be envious of their openness
Of their still fully sound youth
But then I realize that my preference to simply observe from afar
Is not of my own fault
But of the people and substances who took my youth away
And it died far too young.

A tablet that is first sweet dissolves on my tongue in hopes that it relieves the feeling of stomach bile rising to my throat.
And as I step into the shower, drool dribbling down my slack chin, it leaves a bitter, almost intolerable taste in my mouth.
My head against the shower wall I’m unable to even wash my own body tonight, the thought of moving my arms to grab the body wash is insurmountable.
Catatonic, my pain turns me into a vegetable, only able to speak few words at a time like a toddler who has just learned to talk.
Afraid of the fluorescent lights as I sit on a thin piece of paper
All for a man in a white coat to prescribe me another pill to create a new sickness in me.
Sleep no longer an escape, for when I wake the stiffness pounds away mercilessly against my skull even more so, like a construction worker with a jack hammer tearing apart pieces of cement.
My skull is splitting in two day by day by day until it can no longer contain me
Maybe then I will find relief
I can only hope so.