The girl was only seven,
When he came into the picture
                      
                       Bribery by way of sweets

"Now I have her,"
He must have thought,
This was no mere caper

She wonders,
now,
if he meant it like that.
But at seven, sugar meant YES

her voice shivered on the precipice.
everything sounded like begging.
i felt it rise like bile but i
swallowed it whole and became a
good little soldier in the line of
fire. left-right-left-left
left-right-left right out that door
and pulled in all directions, feeling the
beginnings
of unraveling.

it feels like sinking.

it feels like the way wet paper
disintegrates
under the weight of
your touch, rends itself more
with each attempt to hold it
together. no, no glue
can fix this, nothing
can fix this now.

but i am a good soldier.

left-right-left-left
left-right-left-left
left-right-le­ft-left
left-right—
screeching, screeching,
jagged and ******
across the chalkboard.

suddenly sprinting, screaming—the kind
that rips out of the hole forming
inside you, landslides and avalanches, the
shriek of stone to rock to dirt.

roadside, arms flailing, trying
so hard to be seen.

𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺—

suddenly, the sound of sirens.

Silly 5 year old me, such a great pity,
For him to think he could fill the deep hole carefully,
By pleasing forbidden bodies, intuition was screaming for him to flee,
No danger sign warned against transformation into something he never ever meant to be.

When lights of our stars collide,
Only for it to provide some lust and a bit of pride.
All of the storm and misery we set aside,
Touching others just caused more times that we lied.
All heavy chests that yearn for love suffer from this viral infection although hardspun masks try to hide.

The saviour that quiet boy longed for decades and years,
Was all along his future mirror stepping into being twenty-something after a billion tears.
The one that would give him all the love he had ever feared,
Was his own bleeding heart caged in reseda - at least now for me, it cheers.

half of my friends are in middle school
i wonder if im breaking a rule
16 with besties that are barely teens
but trust me
i have good reasoning
i never got to be 13
my memory is blocked
my brains way of erasing trauma
i’m living through these middle schoolers
trying to fill the gap
helping them make memories
i’ll never even have
i just want to make sure
that they don’t break like me
that they look back and feel happy about who they were
and not what they had to grow from

“you’re so mature for your age”
i was 8
i don’t think i should be mature at 8
i shouldn’t even know what “mature” means
i should’ve been a kid but he robbed me

“YOU NEED TO ACT YOUR AGE”
i am!! i finally am!!!
i’m 14 and messed up completely
this is what it’s like now to be a teen

“act like an adult”
yet i’m treated like a child
no wonder you think im wild

your calling me crazed?
babe im freaking insane!!
i’m 16 and everytime that you call
i bang my head against the wall
i wanna KICK,
SCREAM,
and CRY!!
but that’s not how i should behave
it’s not how i was raised
because im “so mature for my age”

I refused
To listen to friends and family
Who warned me what will come
I refused
To look at the signs and flags
That told me to go back
I refused
To make boundaries and lines
Out of self-respect
I refused
To stand tall and put my foot down
When I kept getting hurt
I refused
To give up what we have
Even though you were long gone
I refused
To allow myself to process
To let myself break down
I refused
Even though time has passed
And the pain settled in
I refused
Despite all the heartbreak and pain
To stop loving you

No matter my crisis,
There’s one thing I know-
Even when I’m at my lowest,
I still make the ******* joke.

The room goes quiet,
So I start to smile.
Deflecting pain like an actress,
It never goes out of style.

Tears sting behind my eyes,
But I deliver the line clean.
And everyone laughs,
Because no one knows what the **** it means.

My hurt has a laugh track-
Invisible, robotic, rehearsed.
And if I keep it playing loud enough,
Maybe I won’t feel the worst.

Because silence feels like sinking,
And truth feels like a loss.
But a joke? That’s a win.
Misery is humor’s final boss.

It was never that bad —
until it was.
Until I tested my luck
and didn’t pass the spoon.

I wasn’t the “good girl”
I had to be.
And it cost me — heavily.
You say I made you.
I knew the rules.
I broke them.
That's how you want me to think, right?

But I know the truth.
You’re a polar bear
to the unaware.
With your crisp white coat.

But even they slip —
leave blood on that coat.

You forgot to check my phone.
I have a video
of you preying on the weak.

But I won’t show anyone.
I won’t fight.

That’s the difference —
between me and the prey.
The prey doesn’t feel bad
for the hunter.
The prey asks for help.

And I?
I stay.

Your coat stays white.

Just hoping you leave me
alone to fight.