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Description
i. Somedays my mind wanders
back to the day I told you
I no longer cared.

When I admitted how
my sun-kissed
'I love you'
were hardly heartfelt.

I can remember the look
of pain
desperation
and anguish.

I think I heard your heart
snap.
I should've smelled the smoke
of fire in your veins.

You tried to wind me back
by threatening suicide,
saying you'd run away,
you couldn't live with yourself.

I tasted fear in places
I was meant to be safe.
My mental health regrets you.

ii. You brought me danger.
I broke all sorts of rules
just for you.

You repaid me
with intimate touches
I was not ready for.

I fooled you -
I fooled myself -
repeating in whispers
'I want this. This is good.'

One year later
and you'd have been deemed
pedophile.

One year later
and I'd have become
sexual assault victim.

iii. Dreams are meant to be
ludicrous and beyond reality.
You never allowed that.

You slapped me with words like
bitch,
retard,
anything derogatory that came to mind.

Families are not meant for trust.
They are meant for false smiles
and false tales.

They are not meant
for sharing hopes and ideals.
(You always taught the hard way)

iv. Your lips were soft
beautiful.
They tasted of worlds unknown.
They became second grade addiction.

You caused me to question
what I knew as right and
what I perceived as foreign
at seven.

From you,
my second language
became French.

When I see beautiful,
feminine women
and lust for their touch,
I blame you.

One of the most
eye-opening experiences
has killed me the most.
You have become poison.

v. I saw the blades,
the words on paper,
and heard the story.

You wrote the text
on my phone, but
begged me not to send.

Friendship is not worth
another humans life.
I told your dad.

You can't look or speak
to me now. I hate you
because of selfishness.

I tried to be the hero.
I tried to save you.
But you deny everything.

Maybe I should have
let it be.

vi. The constant harassment -
that made me stonger
tougher
better -
was hell enough.

From five to twelve
men couldn't be men
and tell their boys
to stop.

Instead they joined in
with more pitchforks
and torches.

Stubbornness
and determination
didn't make it any easier.
It will always be
a hard pill to swallow.

Description
i. Somedays my mind wanders
back to the day I told you
I no longer cared.

When I admitted how
my sun-kissed
'I love you'
were hardly heartfelt.

I can remember the look
of pain
desperation
and anguish.

I think I heard your heart
snap.
I should've smelled the smoke
of fire in your veins.

You tried to wind me back
by threatening suicide,
saying you'd run away,
you couldn't live with yourself.

I tasted fear in places
I was meant to be safe.
My mental health regrets you.

ii. You brought me danger.
I broke all sorts of rules
just for you.

You repaid me
with intimate touches
I was not ready for.

I fooled you -
I fooled myself -
repeating in whispers
'I want this. This is good.'

One year later
and you'd have been deemed
pedophile.

One year later
and I'd have become
sexual assault victim.

iii. Dreams are meant to be
ludicrous and beyond reality.
You never allowed that.

You slapped me with words like
bitch,
retard,
anything derogatory that came to mind.

Families are not meant for trust.
They are meant for false smiles
and false tales.

They are not meant
for sharing hopes and ideals.
(You always taught the hard way)

iv. Your lips were soft
beautiful.
They tasted of worlds unknown.
They became second grade addiction.

You caused me to question
what I knew as right and
what I perceived as foreign
at seven.

From you,
my second language
became French.

When I see beautiful,
feminine women
and lust for their touch,
I blame you.

One of the most
eye-opening experiences
has killed me the most.
You have become poison.

v. I saw the blades,
the words on paper,
and heard the story.

You wrote the text
on my phone, but
begged me not to send.

Friendship is not worth
another humans life.
I told your dad.

You can't look or speak
to me now. I hate you
because of selfishness.

I tried to be the hero.
I tried to save you.
But you deny everything.

Maybe I should have
let it be.

vi. The constant harassment -
that made me stonger
tougher
better -
was hell enough.

From five to twelve
men couldn't be men
and tell their boys
to stop.

Instead they joined in
with more pitchforks
and torches.

Stubbornness
and determination
didn't make it any easier.
It will always be
a hard pill to swallow.