There was a time telling my truth was hard,
Stuck between sinking or swimming looking for a lifeguard.
It was weighted, and heavy slowly pulling me down,
But I thought if I open my mouth, for sure I’ll drown.
That you wouldn’t hear me but find holes in my story,
Throwing Daggered questions at me as punishment in this reformatory.
I have the Vivid memories, I’ve tried to make blurry,
Then there’s backlash from the self appointed jury.
But You DO know hurt people, hurt people that’s a fact,
I’ve done my share of hurting, but no never that.
See I’m not on trial just telling my truth,
Trying to create a better future, One that protects our youth!
My hope is that by sharing “This happened to me”,
Helps you realize it was never your fault so stop feeling guilty.
Because I won’t let them discredit you, it doesn’t matter when it occurred,
We’re not speaking because we’re spoken too, we’re dying to be heard.
I’ve extended my heart to you with words cleverly placed,
With each line hope you feel my love in a tight embrace.
At first it’s hard not knowing how to push through,
But YOU ARE A SURVIVOR , I know because I’m a survivor too.

Mind explosions
Of a different kind
They come unexpectedly
Freezing the unconscious mind

With nowhere to run
It is impossible to hide
A terrified hostage
Of the demons inside

Victimized at night
Praying sunlight brings a reprieve
Desperately seeking distraction
From memories one cannot believe

Unknowing of what to do
Unsure of who to trust
Confusion rooted in fear
Is a tumor primed and ready to bust

Do not silence me
because you are scared of my voice.
Do not look down,
but look at me when I speak to you.
Sorry if I come off as too assertive
but I speak because I can.

The fire in me burns.
With flames too big to be calmed.
No matter what you tell me, I know my truth.
You look at me like I'm wasting your time
and I should just sit quiet and sit pretty.

You talk mighty high behind my back to your men,
but do you have enough steel in your spine
to look me in the eyes?
So what are you trying to hide?
Your silence speaks enough for me
to realize you'll never be man enough
to confess your ***** crimes.

I am an army,
too big for you to fight.
I am fire and rage.
I can't keep quiet, I can't just sit still.
No matter how much you try to push me away.
I shall rise again
to declare my name.

I wrote it on my wrists one year
and then again in the powder of pain pills.

and once more inside bottles
of dark whiskey that made me forget.

Since then I have not been close to a knife
without it feeling too heavy.

Since then I have not been
able to stomach medicine.

Since then the alcohol doesn’t
go down the same.
Just makes my eyes ache
and my chest feel heavy
the intoxication isn’t fun anymore.
just a warm nostalgia
of why I started it in the first place

Even upon running away
I am reminded of it.
Even upon coping
I am reminded of it.

In the steady up and down of my breathing-
I hear yours in my ear.

In the weight of cloth upon my skin I feel them there.

So what am I to do?
When you still ruin me
from the inside.

What am I to do?
When my own father
is invalidating at every corner.

What am I to ******* do
When his Facebook comments
are thrown into my face
as he uses the word “molestation” as an insult
as something I should be ashamed of
as something that doesn’t happen but only to deface men.

What am I do to do?
When around every corner
I am reminded of what they’ve done to me?

I. Keep. *******. Walking.

What's in a name?
Let me tell you a story,
Of how my life changed,
And how my name changed,
Every time it appeared on the newspaper.

Replaced by a pseudonym,
Something to do with courage,
I was namelessly admired, slandered, and debated over,
Media’s Exclusive Coverage!

The newspaper headline read in big block letters:
“14 YEAR OLD GIRL SAVES SIX KINDERGARTNERS”,
That made me smile.
Just maybe I thought we had come that extra mile.
But no for I noticed,
My name was changed,
And the Printing Department was not at fault.
That’s just how my country dealt with ****** assault.
I never asked them to hide my name,
They had presumed, of course, that I was ashamed,
Of saving lives. It took me a minute to remember,
I had called Jyoti Nirbhaya for years.

I wanted them to know who I was,
Hiding I thought was for criminals,
Until I realized that I WAS one when,
On returning from the hospital I saw,
Pain in my mother’s,
Anger in my father’s,
And disgust in my relatives’ eyes.
No idea why a part of me had come expecting pride.

In school my “friends” guiltily refrained from talking to me,
Neither were my teachers too happy to see,
That I had returned to the same school,
Bringing with me my painful story,
Which I had mistaken as one of glory.

And when I went to receive the “Bravery Award”,
Only the trophy didn’t read compensation award.
They looked at me with too kind eyes calling me a “hero”
Their smiles told me they meant violated.

As I received the award,
I saw they were trying really hard,
To not let it show,
That they wanted me to know,
The difference between:
Bullet marks on the chest to bite marks on the breast,
Blue around the eyes to blue around the thighs,
Scratches on the fists to cuts on the wrists,
Loud screams in the cold to muffled screams against the cold,
The red of the torn ligament to the red of the torn *****,
The difference between a soldier’s and a victim’s blood.

And suddenly I felt as if I was,
The rescued,
Not the rescuer,
The maimed,
Not the fighter,
The oppressed,
Not the rebel,
The hostage,
Not the warrior,
I thought myself to be.

What’s in a name?
Apparently, a lot.

Dang,
it feels like you all want me to lose,
I thought you’d be relieved,
to know that I emerged victorious from the abuse,

it’s as if just surviving wasn’t enough,
but I also have to be humbled even more,
is having guns in your face and being beaten to a pulp,
not enough I need to be humiliated some more,

but that’s okay,

because sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words will never hurt me,
and I’ve been through a lot worse than some words,
so your opinions written in literary form will never hurt me,

don’t confuse my confidence with cockiness,
because if you do then it’s you that’s confused,
I should be celebrated not player hated,
it wasn’t easy and still isn’t easy getting through the abuse,

but many claim it’s ego,
like I should stay depressed just because I’ve been depressed,
as if I should lay over and give up,
as if I should curse everything for which I’ve been blessed,

what is it that disgusts you so much about success?

You don’t know what I’ve been through,
don’t confuse my being resilient as me being a Narcissist,
honestly I am more humble than you might think,
plus I know any moment I could go off into eternity,

nothing is permanent,
especially not the moment we are in currently,

so please stop throwing stones at my head,
because of some pre-conceived notions you red,
of some words that I said,
that were the result of some cuts that were bled,

I mean seriously what do you want me to do,
would you rather I just die in defeat than live in my truth,
would you rather I allow myself to be pushed of the edge,
than find a way to persevere and pull though?

See I’m as depressed as you I hurt too,
but the difference is I don’t want you to lose,
I want you to be victorious and write yourself into the light,
because Love over Hate is what I every time choose to choose,

Dang,
it feels like you all want me to lose,
I thought you’d be relieved,
to know that I emerged victorious from the abuse…

∆ LaLux ∆