Him.

omgoli

My body had no longer belonged to me and at 5 years old I had learned to grow up.

I carry my body around like a casket and let it be used when it's needed only to then bury it six feet under my sheets.

This body does not belong, and I am nothing more than an item subjected to be used then thrown out after someone is done.

These monsters still lurk around in my head. I still have panic attacks in my sleep, but I have learned to let them go unnoticed. 

I am still a little person lost in a big big world, but sadly I have let my voice go silent.

Underneath this deep, deep pain is still the little boy trapped in her body with his hands on her.

I am now afraid of men, but this body does not belong to me anymore. 

It belongs to him.

 

 

  • Author: Olivia London (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 22nd, 2016 12:14
  • Comment from author about the poem: True story bro.
  • Category: Sad
  • Views: 36
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Comments +

Comments1

  • Augustus

    Scary. Sending positive enhancing thoughts.



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