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Payton Elizabeth Apr 2016
Him
It wasn't like we meant to waste our time.
He just seem to have way to do that to you, without a second thought, he would **** it all out of you.
In the beginning you didn't even recognize it as abuse, and said "It only happened once." and "He didn't mean what he said." but we all know it happened again, and we all knew he meant every word.
In the moment we adored the attention, but when the fights broke out, it was as if he looked at us as machines, when in reality he was the machine, the robot, heartless and emotionless.
After you apologized for his mistake, you smiled and then he hugged you, but little did he know once he couldn't see your face, the smile faded and the frown grew.
You friends warned you of him and begged you to gain the self respect to leave, but you felt like you deserved it, because every fight seemed to be your fault or that maybe if you weren't the way you were it wouldn't have happened. You're constantly telling people you're fine and deep down you know you repeat it so much to convince yourself, not them.
So you're stuck, stuck with him. No matter how much your brain begs you to leave, your heart always hangs on to the pointless reasons to stay.
And in the end we know we didn't do it for ourselves, we did it for him, the abuser.
Shay Feb 2016
I was a puppet and you were my master
pulling my strings and controlling my acts, I was set up for disaster.
You moulded my identity and sense of self with your foul abuse,
every day that you'd force yourself upon me was a fight I'd always lose.
You took from me my individuality and my innocence too
and placed despondency in its place with my childhood falling through
but I am not fully broken and you no longer have control over me
and I am rebuilding myself back up and better I will be.
Emma Sep 2015
Ring around the rosy
Pockets full of posies
Ashes, ashes
We all fall down

Ring around the rosy
Pockets full of posies
Ashes, ashes
My pants go down

My pants go down
And I am pushed against a tree
No one is around
It's only you and me

It's only you and me
And I can't find my voice
I struggle to get free
But I am only a little girl

I am only a little girl
In a white little dress
Your hungry eyes watch me twirl
Your hungry eyes my body undress

Your hungry eyes my body undress
Until your hands are on me
I am afraid to confess
These crimes committed to me

These crimes committed to me
In the dark and in the light
But how can it be
That I still see your face at night

I still see your face at night
As I pass through the hidden alley
I try to run at the speed of light
Those places are my death valley

Those places are my death valley
Gravestone of memories
Of pain I cannot describe verbally
Of times I was in misery

Of times I was in misery
That would follow me for years
I'm not asking for sympathy
Just for you to understand my tears

The tears of a little girl
Whose eyes were bright brown
Innocence white as a pearl
Before you tore her gown

Before you tore her gown
When they trusted you
When no one was around
When I trusted you, too

You caused me to hate
Every place that I loved
To be home as early at eight
Even to fear the darkness I loved

You are the fear in my eyes
When a man stares too long
You are all of the guys
I am afraid to let tag along

You are the shudders
When they touch me
You are the years
Spent in therapy

You are the crack
In my voice
You are the solitude
In which I rejoice

I am no longer a little girl
And now I can speak
My lips I let curl
Into a smile, though it is weak

I am no longer weak
I have learned to ****
It is because of you
I have mastered this skill

I will skin
Any man who dares touch
Who dares put anything in
Any little girl or such

I no longer fear you
It is you who will learn to fear me
For, believe me, I am through
Letting pigs like you run free

To the little girls out there
I solemnly swear
To protect your life
With tooth, nail and knife
To the boy who used and abused me: I am cutting myself free from you. You did not win.
Cat Fiske May 2015
this whole year I have talked to girls in my school,
girls
who wouldn't do things together,
even come together or even talk,

but now were talking,
we've talked,

because the school has lied to us about all these little boy's ****,
and how the boys are allowed to bruise our body's,
steel our souls like it's a game,

why was he allowed?
to get away with it,

because the school and policemen played this game like ****** fools,
and they too encouraged the assault and abuse,
to girls in the hall, or walking to school up the street,

even to girls in cafeterias,
afterschool,

were perfumes of pretty girls were stolen by high school boys,
as they laid on cafeteria floors,
the only scent left was the old lunchroom food stench,

and the high school boy's,
***** *** sweat,

but you belived closeing the doors to the lunchroom,
afterhours,
will stop future harm,

but closeing a door,
wont give a **** victim closer,

espesally when the game continues,
and the odds are stacked up against the women,
where to walk from class to class,

becomes a danger,
and a threat,

because girls who I go to school with have stopped wearing,
that **** red dress,
or tub tops, cutshirts, short shorts,

anything that,
could get you hurt,

because the girls who I go to school with have to wear,
there daddys sweatshirt and sweatpants,
covering
their whole body's while trying to say,

"Im not ****,"
"Don't pick me,"


they are screaming their hopes,
of "Don't Pick Me's" because of the game,
the game of slapping *****,

in the man packs of fives,
to the one girl trying to get to her next class by herself,

the school grounds are no longer a place that's safe,
where you have to know every corner that has a missing camera,
or one turned off,

or if the man pack pull you into the bathroom,
and take off your top,

you're going to be the one,
who gets the book thrown at them,
because the five boys,

pulled the one of you,
into the boys bathroom,

and it doesn't matter why,
or how you got there,
cause school doesn't care,

tells you that you are wrong,
and it's all your fault,

and the five to pull you in,
walk around the school all day,
getting talked up,

like they rolled snake eyes on a pair of six's,
as your stuck like a prisoner in the office trying almost begging,

for some sort of justice,
and every time you talk,
there replys make you feel like a ****,

but you just want to call your mom,
and they wont let you,

so you have to sit and wait, and,
you don't remember if they took your picture & got it with your face,
but you can remember each and everyone of there faces,

like there the only faces a blind person will ever see,
as if there horrible image can't get away from you,

you try,
because you should only see beauty,
though blind eyes,

and your eyes have been scorned,
because five boys tore one girls shirt,

and these boys play the game,
the game of ****, and let me take her picture without her consent,
but that's not even all their rules,

because if they don't do that to you,
they publicly shame you,

they come up to you,
slap your *** so hard,
you instantly see a bruise,

and you have to tell your mother when you get home,
and she has to take pictures of it,

take you to the police station,
where they tell you,
the school should of just handled it,

and in a town so ******* worried about pills,
and drugs,

maybe they should worry about the game they taught their sons,
because the girls may pop pills and drink underanged,
but does that give a man an excuse,

to commit a ****?
and I know it's not just the girls who suffer the most,

I feel though it all,
the guys who have gotten the worse treatment,
kept what happened hidden,

because girls are smart,
and we know all the men got away with it,

so if one or two girls wanna **** a dude,
you think our police or school will do **** for the dudes too?
if anything they'd get publicly shamed,

and what high school boy wants that,
when they were taught to play a game,

and someone,
played the same ****,
**on them.
a bunch of girls keep getting harassed like this. all of this is true sadly this is based on true stuff, none happened to me like this, but I had my phone stolen and the school handled it the same way, and I've been *****, so I'm a support person for people at school, and I try to help them get though it, and make sure they get a police report filed even though they tell them and there parents they don't need too. and try to give them my best support emotionally. Its tough, but we can all get though things, but other things need to change, and yeah I have talked to guys who have been *****, but they didn't do anything.
Colette Williams Apr 2014
I remember that day,
That day you walked with me.
I remember it felt like peace and harmony.
It was refreshing in all of its simplicity.
My friends, my family, they all neglected
What I had to say, the questions children ask every day.
It did not matter what kind of attention you gave.
Even if it was negative, it was a drug that I craved.
You may not have understood, but you knew it, didn't you?
You knew that I truly, desperately needed you.
Exploitation was your art.
I wish I had seen it; I wish I was smart.

— The End —