I’m probably going to go blind.
This hasn’t deterred me from changing habits, because it will happen nonetheless, if it does. I firmly believe it won’t.
My heart isn’t, though.
I will probably tell some stories before i go down like a maniac, fool, a that foolish sort of person.
When I was nine, I told A to stop.
He asked if he could, and I said, “We will get scolded really badly”.
That didn’t stop him.
When I was eleven, I woke up to B next to my face,
We were taught never to be close to the opposite sex,
But also never to be impolite
So I sat up, jerking away,
But the reaction didn’t register.
I think I ran, but that didn’t happen as well.
I think if I could try harder, nothing could have ever happened, really.
Why did you raise a daughter like this?
The arpeggios, the running notes,
The minor fall, and the major lift,
Are all of us so replaceable?
It ruins me; everything I hold within.
The forgiveness cannot help me sleep because when memories rush by, there is nothing clean to hug
The maturity cannot keep me safe because every idea of past invasion feels true
No amount of external pressure and advice can stop me from waking up feeling ashamed and ______________
There’s no blame, no hate,
but please alleviate me from all the pain.
Are 14 years not about enough?
Who got hurt really young?
Why is no one as hurt? How is this a special thing, M?