2 men,
that's it.
2 men
have known me,
inside, they fit.
Doped out
of my mind;
it's hard to recall.
Bits and pieces,
flashes of memory.
I was a living rag doll.
Barely breathing,
he takes me from behind.
Pulls my hair,
and says,
"I'm gonna make you mine!"
I think it happened
three times,
but who really knows?
When your brain's
as high as mine goes.
I can't call it ****,
I was a willing participant.
Numb to the bones,
so with it I went.
When it all fell apart;
my secrets exposed,
he wrote me something
that was no longer prose.
His words were razor blades,
slicing the skin with ease.
I kept myself in my own prison;
over, my heart began to freeze.
"A willing **** victim",
is what he called me.
Sick to my stomach
for allowing him in,
I lay my head on the pillow
to cry for a 5 year old sin.
Inspired by the most hurtful words ever uttered to me. Written before I could accept that this man had indeed ***** me.
