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i started this poem
when i was
nearly 23
i'm 24 now
almost 25
but i still feel
like a child.

trying drugs,
loving the man
who would **** me.
and i'd forgive him
take him back into my arms
let him touch me anywhere
just to feel something.
he smokes
and smokes
and smokes
through a haze
of drugs and
shame. he spoke
useless fragile
words and i drank
them up eagerly.
they tasted like
and ice.

when i'm 20
i find a therapist.
no more drugs;
still loving him.
i slide a new slate
across the kitchen
table just for him.
but it's cracking
as his fingers
pick it up,
shattering in
place. he moves
from stone
to skin. rips
and tears
until i'm

still in therapy,
i tell him
it's okay
that he
it was
the drugs:
not me.
but when i
tell him how
much it hurts
he says
maybe you
should work on that
in therapy.
i lean into
his side
but being
near him
never quite
feels the
same and
i ache for

i'm 22 when i find out
that being pressured
into *** after
saying no twice
isn't consensual
and he's not
round anymore
but at night
i hold my breath
terrified that he'll
appear. in my
dreams there
are flash
backs lying
in wait, even
though i've
begged for
some dream
less sleep.

when i'm 23
my third or fourth
tells me
she's sorry that
i had to go through
it all. and she listens
as i fade away and keeps
listening until i
can feel the earth
at my feet
once more.
she's a good
sort. i'm sad
when she

24 creeps
upon me
like a scratchy
sweater. i want to
shrug it off of my
shoulders, but it's
too cold. i'm no
longer the things
that happened
to me in that
darkening room,
and at twilight
most nights
i no longer find
myself thinking of

i feel so old.
my bones always
hurt, the cat's food
is so expensive, and
i always have chicken
in the freezer. but
i can't bring myself
to eat. the medications
keep the ache at bay
but i feel it waiting.
at least my cat always
purrs when i feed him.
makes me feel
a little

my chance to grow
got pushed back a
few years
and i probably grew
anyways, unknowingly
pushing back against
invisible walls waiting
for one to finally give.

i hate that i'm here
trapped in adolescence
i hate that i'm still
writing about him
about what happened
and how much it still
hurts me.

maybe when i'm 25
i'll try to edit
this poem.
i found this unfinished poem and decided to re-write it. it's a lot. i tried to tag trigger warnings so i hope this didn't make anyone upset. i should edit this one day. [tw: sa] = [trigger warning: ****** assaul t]
Lila Platt Feb 16
do you know how hard it is
to have a million thoughts in your head
but no words to speak?

to be screaming “help me”
but no one can hear you?

to be smiling
but having tears drip from your eyes,
betraying your true feelings

to respond to someone in your head
only to realize you never really replied

they call you quiet
but they don’t know how loud you really are
Lila Platt Dec 2021
this wasn’t supposed to be my life
this wasn’t how it was supposed to go

what happened to me?
where did all of my happiness go?
UNiTY Nov 2021
Twists and turns
Learning to check my speed along each curve
So much about myself I come to find is -
actually another thing.

The little neurons , moving about
so hyperactively
that it drives me into half a day of rest

or otherwise

What have I done those moments I have impacted them
whether by a blow from the fist or the nostrils

So much has changed
no longer do I indulge in the dangers of drugs
only the safe ones that help my physical pain

Slowly learning- but not before I'm ruined , to keep my hands off myself
As not to damage what sanity I have left .

Which fortunately, Is more than I could have based on the past decade
but unfortunately, some pieces of this puzzle of a young woman are missing-

That is okay, I guess the colors in between and I scribble underneath

I play a guessing game until my loved ones remind me of the truth
When they know it

Will I Always be searching for the corners to complete it?
I really don't care much for whole complete pictures anyways
Always folding photos to hide the faces of those who wronged me, crumbling unfinished pieces of art before wondering what I could add, only to replace it with another one .

Guess it doesn't matter- though when I dig through old memories, there are some things I find that surprise me.

How much we change year to year, throughout a lifetime as people? Is it more or less person to person based on our experience?
I haven't been here in a long time . There shall be more. So much has happened since .
Katelynn Oct 2021
There lives a dragon in my stomach.
That pokes and prods with every scale.
With heat from it’s flames that leave skin blushed.
A bloated squeezing growing from the lack of room.

I check my stomach daily.
Searching for holes and bruises,
My hands running over bear skin amazed.
And yet, I feel it now,
Playing chess up my spine,
Each claw catching as it climbs up my vertebrae.
Leaving chills and goosebumps in it’s passing.

I’ve cried out for help.
Wanting nothing more from this beast.
But it leaves nightmares with it’s presence.
And it’s wings make perfect walls.

People just get tired after a while.
Just “the boy who cried wolf,”
But as I spout more words to them scrambling for help.
I see the smoke pillowing out of my mouth.
And before I could question,
We were both just as blinded.

I have a dragon in my stomach.
Years spent together like bitter friends.
Growing used to the burn of it’s hugs.
Even dousing the flames on my own at times.
A begrudging compromise.

Now overtime the beast grew too.
Spending more of it’s passing as a shadow over my shoulders.
Even with much less hold on me than before.
It still watches with delight.
Some days weighing like a backpack of bricks.
Whispering in my ear, coaching. Letting smoke fill my head, confusing.
Most other days are more bearable.

At night the beast stays on my chest.
Like a scaly tiger it curls on top,
With a kneading purr as it settles.
I never quite remember sleeping these nights.
Flashes of tossing and turning from being uncomfortable.
Poking, and prodding, and burning, and now chilling, and now waking up sweating.
The fog only clearing after spending time awake.

Alas there is a dragon in my stomach.
A spiteful beast that took hold there.
With greetings just like an old friend.
And when I finally demanded it’s name.

“Trauma” the beast told me.
I’m amazed that I wrote this. Comments are appreciated and I hope you random stranger have a nice day.
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