They claim themselves quites,
When in truth I am silence,
They are an aim of an unforgiving bullet,
And I am War.
Maybe victims, we all are.

my heart bleeds black
as darkness falls from the sky
onto your lovely face

be safe in your journey
as my heart is with you
& be safe from the brooding storm

weathered is the day
& aching are our bones
but be resolved in your decisions
as I am with you in spirit

It feels as though every day your maggots eat at my brain--
every time i see something rancid, i think of you.
on television, I see the horrors of humanity, I think of you.

How can I blame you for eating away at me?
I am garbage,
rotten,
a horrible shade of gray-green.
You are maggots,
you cling to and feast on those like me.

Being who I am, being what I am,
it must've seemed like an invite.

When garbage cans become infested,
owners blame their own recklessness.
It is the conditions they created
that invited the maggots.

When I became infected with you,
I could only blame my own recklessness.
It is the conditions I created
that invited you.

I don't know who I am anymore.
I don't know who anyone is.
Everyone here is victim to routine, and I hate it.
Everyone here is a victim to themselves.
My throat burns.
I feel like I've let them down; I feel like they let me down.
I am lost. Give me a sign.

when I was 14 I was force fed contraception and never got a taste of an apology
when I was 14 the phrase "I'm not ready" wasn't a clear enough interpretation of "no"
so instead of presenting my case in front of a judge, I presented my virginity in front of a 17 year old boy.
when I was 14 I didn't know I was being ***** until a week and a half later when it happened again.
and even through my broken sobs and nightmares, my own father didn't believe me for over a year.
when I was 15, I was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder because the distinction between love and tear stained pillow cases was nearly non existent.
when I was 15, I made the decision to drown the flashbacks in a sea of painkillers, and in what followed I met thirteen other beautiful girls who shared the same story I did.
when I was 16 I realized something had to be done.

for two years I hid a badge labeled '**** victim' under long sleeves and red eyes because I was too ashamed of what I let happened to myself to get help.
I was told I made a false accusation, when in reality the only fallacy is in our justice system.

**** is not always a white t shirt with specks of blood in the back of an alley or a drunk uncle with a wandering eye. **** is not always screaming at the top of your lungs and fighting for your life with a knife to the neck. it is not always textbook, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be taken seriously.

Won’t you lie here with me? Can’t we just let the world slip away?
Or would it hurt you too much to let anyone near your heart? Even if that someone is me?
Won’t you say anything at all? Even if it’s not what I want to hear? I’d rather have harsh truths than kind lies.
And I know you will not lie. You will not be kind.
Your face is stoic, it makes me want to cry.
Do you not feel anything? Does anything break through the surface of your skepticism? Though I try and try to see past your unrelenting negativity you continue to surprise me with your coldness. How do you stay so cold?
The silence you project is screaming, pounding in my ears and everything in me burns for the affection you refuse to give.
Why do you pretend I’m not even here? I want a way out, but being alone terrifies me more than you do. Terrifies me more than the silence and the cold. Maybe after a while, the coldness won’t hurt.

I can wait.

You took my innocence
And stole my childhood
I will not forgive
I won't ever forget

I will, however
Move on

I am not a victim
I am a survivor
What you did out of weakness
Has made me stronger