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I was not designed to be an object,
And yet a man I once loved
Tried to claim me as such,
Like my body was his
And nothing more than a carbon mass
Whose blood did not run red in my veins.
I am more than the nickname on his tongue
And the doll for *** he made me,
Not a toy to be ripped apart
Into plastic pieces,
Until all I owned was my name.
My body and mind were not free real estate
For him to occupy rent free.
I am not a parking lot for the dumpster fire
Of his problems.
I exist in this world to own myself above all else.
This girl is not an object.
I did not deserve to have my body taken from me.

— The End —