The Hurting

You chug a fifth of alcohol by yourself.

And everyone around you is too busy cheering

to wonder how empty you had to be,

in order to do it.

You pass out drunk at a party.

You’re seventeen years old.

Your friends think you’re a rock star.

Little do they know, you’re trying

to drown yourself in something

other than your own tears.

And for tonight, this vodka will do.

How did you get to this point?

Who hurt you so badly?

Was it the stress from your parents,

and their impossible expectations of you?

Or was it the grown man,

who took advantage of you

in a corn field after promising

that you would take things slow.

Maybe that’s why you’re afraid of the dark.

Or the smell of fresh cut grass.

And cows too.

They are triggers.

And every one of them brings you right back.

You’re just as vulnerable and naïve.

No.

You are not that girl anymore.

He can no longer hurt you.

You are not weak just because

your heart feels so heavy.

He is weak.

Men are supposed to love

and protect women.

Not hurt them.

It took me a very long time

to develop a voice.

And now that I have it,

I am not going to remain silent.

If dogs can understand the

meaning of the word “No”,

It shouldn’t be a difficult concept for men.

This is not a witch hunt. 

This is a war cry,

for all of the brave women. 

This ones for you.

You are not as broken as you feel.

Sure you have a couple scars

and bad memories.

But then again, all great heroes do.

You have a choice in this situation.

Let it define you,

or be your own light at the end

of an extremely dark tunnel.

Choose yourself.