Repression
It’s hard to breathe when I know I’m not myself anymore,
To know what you did, you brought me to my knees
with burning tears stinging down my face,
and the agony of rage bursting in my chest.
it’s hard to sleep when I am haunted everyday by a nightmare,
It can’t be repressed,
and It can’t be spoken of,
For it is the definition of hell.
It’s hard to live knowing I can’t change anything that happened,
where my body wasn’t my own and where no never applied to you,
the sight of your blue eyes and shaved head makes me cringe,
the sound of your voice saying “it’ll be fine” makes me mask my body with more of a blanket than ever before
do my silent screams and muffled “no’s” haunt you?
you told me you wanted to die afterwards,
but how can you turn everything to you?
how can you feel so bad when your privacy wasn’t invaded and your temple didn’t get torn down and left to ash.
It’s hard to tell what happened that warm, sunny day,
where outside the birds were singing and the trees were swaying,
but inside that room the storm was brewing.
You became a tornado, destroying everything in your path,
your 100 mile-per hour winds smelt like the strong dank you smoked and the cologne you wore.
my world and my life destroyed in the wreck,
My thoughts and my mind slipped while My innocence and confidence were stolen away from me,
I am completely broken with my pieces scattered about, unable to repair the wreckage you made, tell me, How does it feel shattering my life?
Copyright © Jillian Conway | Year Posted 2016
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