“You look like my daughter”
The man says to me,
As he’s ordering me a drink
Looking my body up and down.
I laugh,
Look away,
Try to pretend he didn’t say that
Oh but don’t worry
He made it a point
to mention
T H R E E
M O R E
T I M E S
how my body
Resembled his daughters,
“Tight, perfect, the right kind”
Oof.
Idk y’all
Idk that I can do this.
I walk away
I dont make that money.
Even though I know **** well,
I fit his ****** up fantasies.
Not to mention I’m triggered,
Thanks to my childhood trauma,
By all of this conversation,
But it doesn’t really matter
Anyways.
Just a product of my environment
Just an object to fill
The desires
Of hungry eyes.
**** it
Let me be
An empty *** doll.
Just take my intelligence with you please.
Flowers for Algernon ,
And I’m wilting.
I’m too aware of my place in society.
Why strive to peruse my education,
When I know no one will hire me
Because of my background?
Why stay sober,
When my ******* flashbacks
Only stop when I’m drunk?
I hate my life.
No I don’t like the job I have;
But this **** ain’t easy.
And none of it is my fault.
It isn’t.
None of my trauma is my fault.
At least At the end of the day
I have the comfort
Of knowing,
That I matter just as little as the next person.
My life,
In all of its glory,
matters just as little as john f Kennedy’s
I am nothing
And we are nothing
Our suffering is eternal
