Apr 9
I feel as though I have so much to say,
but no one wants to hear it anymore.
A tight smile is all my face can display.
Interaction with me becomes a chore.
I pick at my skin til it starts to sting.
Push it down, that’s what good girls always do.
To have my “friend” touch my sweatshirts’ red strings
and trap me up against my wall, subdued.
Us alone in my room, the door is now locked.
Frozen in fear, I know what is up next.
My body can’t move yet I feel his body, cocked.
Once done, he leaves for his kin. I stay still, vexed.
We don’t speak of his perverse transgression.
Yet I can’t be freed from his possession.
- C. M.
