we paint our faces
stick scars to our skin
laughter dances around the room
nerves make an appearance from within

smoke machine switches on
smoke creeps around our ankles
music deafening us
lights blinding my friends

no sight
no hearing
no awareness
of the twists and turns this night takes

she’s bleeding tonight
it’s noticed but is unimportant
she resembles a statue
enduring the raid of her body

in her peripheral is the door
fleeing to an exit is not a choice
observing the intrusion  
aching for conclusion

surveyed until she is out of sight
silenced until alone
but at this point
she has turned to stone

words are tucked inside
safe from vulnerability
all she can release
are cries
cries which start to cease

and with arms wrapped around her
she will never be the same
only a shell of a person
trying not to accept the blame

I'm a cannibal, consuming the flesh of my past
Taking back what was once attached
I'm not going to be the submissive, quiet kid I used to be
I've grown and I'm stronger now, you can't control me

I'm not a victim of your stupidity to get a laugh and some masculinity
I've been busy, and I'm not looking for sympathy
Your hands will never touch me again
You will not get under my skin

I hear things are going well for you, Joey
But your mom and her protection can't stop you from growing lonely
The more people you hurt, the worse it gets for you
That guilt will one day run you through

Tyler, you were always way too protected, with your mom being a teacher at school
And you always thought you were so cool with your copy of the schools keys, you used to "rule"
I could never seem to escape you, but now you are on your own
And you should have known that someday someone would pull the rug out from under your throne

You were so mighty, Nick, with a mom to go handle all your problems
And you certainly took advantage when you were filled with all that self-importance
And when your mom asked where you were, you lied and said it was my fault
Because I just really wanted to add to my list of tramua's ****** assualt

I wasn't cute, I wasn't charming, I wasn't overly girly, but I was weak and "easy"
Of course it's easy to overpower someone if you are big and sneaky
I never had someone to protect me, like Nick, Tyler, and Joey's moms
And I never had someone who'd believe me when I finally took down my walls

I was always different from the other kids, and family wasn't going to help
Who would believe me, over a popular straight A student; for me it was a dead end
No one believes me, I am not good enough, not important enough, to be given attention
But I won't stop working, trying to prove myself, until I am seen as good enough, without question

I am not anyone's plaything anymore, I am my own person
I am not an outlet for your sick *******
I am a being with thoughts and I'm not as easy to control as I used to be
I will bring you down with me

I struggle to click the keys, watching the cursor blink. Everything in me feels heavy. I feel you crawling around inside my bones. I've asked you to leave hundreds of times. But you stay in my head and ignore my wishes. You ruined another good day. I feel myself trying to reject you from my thoughts, but the more I try the more I think about it. I feel myself tense. I feel my body grow tired. I don't wanna fight. I don't wanna think. I don't want it. I don't want you. I find it kind of ironic that it's been a decade and we still play that game- where you don't know. You don't know about that one day. I'm stuck here picking up the pieces you dropped since then. *******. I wish you knew how much pain you cause. You were supposed to hug all my pain away, but this pain you created can't be tamed.

i have stopped bringing roses to the grave of the girl i used to be
i burnt the clothes i was taken in.
this takes up so much space inside of me
and this air is the only place i can let this trauma live outside of my body
i am now afraid to wear my recovery too publicly
because it was the only witness
i didn’t want to write a statement or file a report
i just wanted to take a shower

i just wanted to take a shower
soon after my applause of ‘victory’ my voice was hushed
i have noticed people stopped calling me victim and only started calling me survivor
when i stopped talking about it
i was questioned over and over again because after years i slowly began to be comfortable with the thought of a free voice,
a voice of my own
i took notes on which ways to pronounce ‘****’ without having other people be bothered
they ask for proof as if my eyes were security tapes
and when the footage is lost he is innocent until proven guilty
but so am i

yeah maybe i’m crazy.
maybe i’m crazy to see a world in which my healing is not brought along with an eraser
but i am not ******, i was treated in a psych unit because of what was done to me

i will not be interrupted.
i will not be spoken over.
i will not become someone i’m not just to please the ones who look over my shoulder and start giving suggestions.

I screamed
Hoping someone would be awake
To hear the sound of damage

If not me
I wanted to alert the rest
Of the predation I became the victim to

Because you were the kind of guy
They don’t warn you about
You’re the kind they praise

The one who gets into the house
Uninvited but welcomed
Because you know how to make them smile
Slowly infesting the heads
To get into cold beds
Because you enjoy the *******
You enjoy the art of treachery
The idea of being good at one thing
Feeding on the muffled, “Please”
But you don’t stop
Not until you fill blood in the crease
You’re ruthless, and you’re proud of it

Inferior. That's what I am compared to him.
He can do as he pleases while I am the mere thing he used for his own gratification once or twice.

But that's what happens when you give someone everything, and they degrade you after turning you into nothing. That's what happens when you're inferior. That's what happens to scared little girls. That's what happens when you're meant to fend for yourself. That's what happens, when from the start, you're nothing.

You chase your dreams
While I run far away from mine

I drag myself along by the neck to a state of delirium
Where all I can remember is the jolt from my subconscious if I start to slip into sleep
Dreams I cannot wake myself from lurk in the corners

Where foreign hands curse my skin again
And I scream myself raw.
Begging for help that never comes
Lost in the distortion of dreams.