Justice Or Shame.

It's always happened, I don't know why the fuck it had to be me

My perspective is that most men are polluted perverts, but maybe it's me.
Is it because of the way I dress? My chestnut coloured, silky-smooth hair? My transparent fairness? My deceiving, youthful looking face?
Never had justice though either way, they chose to be sorry than safe and then I'll be gone without a trace.
By them I mean my so called 'family', 'my blood', the people who brought me up and were meant to keep me protected
But it's always been shame over justice, since it's the close people who are the most deceiving it's nothing they've ever expected.
I block it out most the time but it's as if the traumatised flashbacks are dangerously injected into my veins
They've got me right where they want me, trapped in a brutalising box guarded with sturdy chains.
It's a whole different level of hurt when your blood betrays you and don't care about you
The day will come when I won't give a fuck and they'll watch me make a break through.
They link it to religion, blame it on me but that's just excuses to keep their dumbass reputation
At the end of the day, it's the men's fault because their mind is corrupted, contaminated and cursed with filth and give into their wrongly named 'temptation'.