Age eighteen.

Senior year already, I’ve grown into this body, and now they seem to notice me, in fact they all know me, I go to every party, I smoke and I drink, I do the same thing as every other average teen, and all the boys like me, promiscuity, could it be? Maybe but who cares as long as I get the attention I need, as long as I don’t have to go home, I’ll seduce anybody, rather be on the streets than return to that thing, they call it a home but it reeks, of a disgusting memory I dare not speak. But I’m the party girl, who everyone wants to be around, girls envy me and wish they were me, because they know prom queen I’ll be crowned, but these girls have no idea of the injustice this world revolves around, they wouldn’t last two days walking on my same ground, guys fall at my feet, they think I’m they’re dream girl, but little do they know that I use them to drown, that I die a little more inside every time I get around, they take me as their little prize, not knowing the dirty secret I hold inside, and it serves them right, because all men are alike, and when I kiss them, I never close my eyes, because that’s when they’ll strike, and if they ever say “I love you”, then it’s time to take a hike, because like I said before, ALL men are alike.

Age fifteen.

No one even looks at me. No one sees past my flat chest and these braces in my teeth, no one seems to know the me that is beneath, the me with no self esteem, it’s like I wear a cloak of invisibility, ever since HE…(sigh) I must not speak of those things. I go through life as a puppet, don’t know who pulls my strings, but I know it’s not me, my teacher’s say I’m smart, that I can do better than C’s and D’s, that I should socialize with others, and let them get to know me, if they only knew…

Age twelve.

No one seems to know I’m going through hell. And that I’m shaking with terror of that dismissal bell, I don’t wanna go home and here HIM yell, I wonder if anyone senses that smell. No. They couldn’t. I hide it well. Parent teacher conferences. A good image HE must sell, wouldn’t want anyone to know that HE’s the Devil, and we live in hell. “Your father’s doing well” they say, “you must be very proud”. “ Oh yes he’s so renowned”, I say, I figure why not play into the cynicism as well, and let the irony make him drown, HE makes these faces of disapproval at me, and I don’t care who’s around, I can’t wait for the day until his secret is found, maybe then will I return to life and be unburied from the ground, maybe then will I be sound.

Age nine.

Daddy says he’s got a surprise. He comes in my room and locks the door behind. Tells me to close my eyes, not to worry it’ll be fine, but when I opened them, what I saw sent a chill up my spine, and daddy touched me in places I wanna erase from my mind, and he made these faces, that made me wish I could die, this wasn’t much of a surprise, and no one heard my screams and cries, and daddy said it was a secret, just between him and I, that no one should know, that they’d think it was a lie, he said wipe those tears from your eyes, before your mom comes home asking why, so I tried, and I tried, but my stupid eyes, they wouldn’t stop building up these tears, and my disgusting body wouldn’t stop shaking in fear, and I just wanna disappear, but I keep looking in the mirror, and I’m still here…I’m still here.


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