Experience
Content Warning: Non-specific references to abuse, sexual assault.
(Poetry)
I was kind once
A joyful child
The world, exciting
Unable to see
The rot beneath the sheen
You, who stole my innocence
Secrets kept
The risk of shame
Your violations a reflection
Of those you suffered yourself
I cannot hate you
You, my fellow victim
Trapped, as I was not
Twisted cries for help
To those too young to understand.
But then there were those of you
Who, seeing a strange girl, poor
Book in hand, curious
Mocked me for my poverty
My wonder at this world
Did you understand how it hurt
Wanting desperately to belong
And not understanding
Still not truly grasping
Why who I was, was not enough.
And my first real relationship
Forged from my theft of affection
Mistaking your anger
As a fury reserved only for your ex
Finding, too quickly, I was wrong
Belief that I was lesser
Your words, broken glass
Failing to break my spirit
But I forgive you, you bound
To the imbalances in your mind.
There is more to this poetry of pain
Anguish, grief, rage, and fury
Shaping that joyful young girl
Into something darker, stronger
Sharp edges all around
So perhaps my words cut deep
My fury sometimes uncontrolled
My trust hard to earn, easy to lose
But this world is still exciting
And though I may not be nice
I strive to be kind
Believing that there's still a sheen in me
Waiting to be discovered.