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You tried to touch me,
and I said no.
You still tried and I pushed you away
asking…. no, telling you to leave me alone.
But still, you grabbed me,
like an object that belonged to you.
And when I still said no,
you acted like that was your cue
to grab me again
and do what you do.
You were my best friend
and now I ******* hate you!
I still blame myself for what you did to me.
How is that fair?
It’s been 4 years and I think about it daily.
While you don’t even care.
You ruined high school for me.
I had to see you every day in band.
But I still blame myself,
for not putting you on the stand.
about my ****** assault in 9th grade
I got the school involved, they did nothing despite my concrete evidence
Randy Johnson Feb 2020
The story I'm going to tell is something that isn't good.
A registered *** offender moved to my neighborhood.
A child molester moved to my neighborhood and I didn't want him here.
When I told my neighbors that I wanted him to leave, I made my point clear.
But the idiots said that everybody deserves a second chance.
Sometimes that is true but not under this circumstance.
All of my neighbors said that we should forgive and forget.
They ignored me and it was something they would regret.
Less than two months later, a neighbor's daughter was molested.
The police were called and the creep was handcuffed and arrested.
I told everybody time after time to make him leave but they ignored my advice.
And because of their stupidity, my neighbor's underage daughter paid the price.
I have a message that each and every person needs to receive.
If a child molester moves to your neighborhood, you should demand that he leaves.
Arisa Mar 2019
An insect.
That crawls upon my body, except I can't quickly swat it away
Without causing attention to myself
and everyone noticing that my
white ******* are pulled
all the way down
to my ankles.

My lips are dry so I bite them.
Knuckles whitening while I hold onto the grip-strap
And I hear his heavy breathing against my neck.
I look at the tunnels, quickly passing by.
'Maybe this will end fast too?'

Naive of me to think so.

Sliding into my flower
Like a toxic, little aphid.
Stuck on my sticky leaves
As petals are parted and

I pour out of the open doors in Shinjuku station,
And run out, wiping a tear on my sleeve.
I tug up my decency
While I run to the ticket booth.
Angry foreigner was yelling at the old man who sits within.
The clock above strikes eight.
I decide that it's not worth it.
I won't tell anyone.
It doesn't matter.
Could be worse.
It's okay.
I'm okay.

I wasn't okay.
I recall a time where I was molested by a pervert in the trains of Tokyo when I was in middle school.
mars Dec 2018
Waves taller than I was
cool atlantic ocean
grainy sand between my fingers
burying my toes.

Hot sunburns and salty hair
the beach bars where we used to eat off the kids meal
going back to your condo
sitting on your couch.

Thrown over his shoulders
covered in sand, the warm weight used to be fun but now it just scares me
you scare me.
My shoulders were kissed
sunscreen on my back
the lukewarm pools and marco polo races holding my breath until i thought my lungs would explode.

The water would rush back with the pull of the ocean our sundresses damp around our ankles, bruises over our mouths where you held them shut
The porch light was on to the condo my towel draped over your balcony, bathing suit bottoms in your bedroom.

Forgotten toys and to pairs of arm floaties because i was never good at swimming, you left your watch on the shoreline.
Crying because of the pain and the hatred and love
Never knowing if I would be cuddled or touched
but knowing i would be cuddled after being touched
those sunburnt spots caressed by you.
White caps peak as the sun rises, we’re cold with fevers and abuse, shaking as our feet are wet again with salty water and your watch pulled out to the sea, lost forever.
Wyatt Jul 2018
After all these years
your stench is still on me,
your name still disgusts me,
your curse on my life
still sticks with me every day.
What you did to me,
how you preyed on me
when I was way too young.
How you’re probably still
out there somewhere
doing it to someone else,
I’m tired of thinking about it.
I’m afraid of people
and what they might think,
you’re the reason why.
Why did you do this to me?
Why did you break me?

Late night thoughts,
stricken with fear.
Someone will find out,
I’ll be shunned by my peers.
Dysfunctional, weary.
It stays with me,
I feel disgusting.
Cannot function without
that memory appearing.
Cannot socialize,
it might happen again.
My hands still shake,
I’ll never get over this.
Your stench is still on me,
it’s all so ugly.
Innocence stolen by you,
part of me died back then.
angelique Jan 2017
i lost my innocence at eight years old
and i wish someone would have told me that
i wish i hadn't figured it out by myself when my trust in anything that was supposed to be safe was already long gone
i wish i hadn't walked up to him
i wish i wasn't afraid to tell people that i did because i'm afraid to hear someone blame me for it
i wish i didn't blame me for it
i wish i never have to experience that awful feeling of simultaneous disgust, shame, dirtiness, and confusion again
every time i've taken my shirt off for ten years straight.
when i shower.
when anyone touches me even in the most innocent way.
that feeling like the only way i could ever feel completely clean would be to burn my skin off.
that feeling that consumes my mind out of the blue and suddenly i'm that little girl in the green and white striped skort again that didn't understand what happened to her
just that it was bad
the little girl that nobody taught to differentiate between what was okay along with the real, blunt reason why and what happened to her so any sort of physical contact with people felt wrong
i wish i could never feel that again
i wish it could be night all the time and no one would ever be around
they warn you about wandering too far from home when you're alone
about going out after dark and playing in places without people around
about the bad people, the sick malicious perverts, that you have to watch out for
they don't tell you about the good people that just don't know what they're doing
they don't tell you about the grandfather with dementia watching his grandson play at the park in broad day light surrounded by people
at least, they don't tell you to stay away from him
daylight has never made me feel more secure than darkness
and seeing people nearby has never brought me comfort
because nothing has ever made me feel more unsafe and vulnerable than that day in the park
in broad daylight
surrounded by people
I know the feeling.
The feeling of foreign hands in your body
Against your will
Your throat becomes tight
Your tongue becomes numb
Your mind goes blank
Your body starts to shake heavy
This is it. He wins over
He might had the physical power
to use your body to his pleasure
But tu, mujer are stronger than he is.
The aftermath will want to shut you down
but use your tongue to bring justice.
Dont let fear make you inferior.
Dont let him prey for the next girl.
Dont let another voice be let unheard.
Y Rada Oct 2015
I buried him somewhere…
When I go to bed at night,
I checked the closet and he’s not there,
I tried under my bed and he’s not there.

Surely he’s dead for I buried him somewhere,
I am a woman now and not a frantic child,
It’s been a long while since I have not visited his grave,
Pray then, why must he appear now?

I tried hard to move on with life,
I persevered to love and accept myself,
I opened my heart to forgive my own,
My being is as wide as the skies.

I found solace in the plateau of my existence,
Why must he visit now?
Truly, I buried him somewhere,
And I swore he’ll never see me again.

He’s there trying to taunt and torture me,
He’s the one who mocks me,
He scoffs me when I search for happiness,
He laughs when I try beating myself.

Nightmares haunt me even at day,
He was the devil himself,
He, a vile and a disgusting man,
Who touched and fondled me in my innocent years.

He violated my freshness to rotten,
And it took me years to pick up the pieces,
Now that I’m almost whole I couldn’t understand,
Why must he resurrect in my dreams?

I am a woman and I still live,
Yet fear still envelopes my being,
I can never forgive and I will never forget,
But surely, I buried him somewhere…
Dedicated to the abused (sexually or other) females around the world
Jackeline Chacon Aug 2015
I look in the mirror
And all I can see
Is a little lost girl
Staring at me

I reach her hand
But she starts to fade
I can't undo all these
Mistakes I have made

I was innocent once
I can still hear her voice
The way she cried stop
But she had no choice
Chloe Nov 2014
I don't understand the word ‘love’ because
when I was 13 years old I was forced to believe in it as my brother shoved the wrong definition between my thighs.
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