Forgive me, for my spirit is scarred beyond recognition.
Each glance, flirt, word, and touch sends me into near panic.
Shivers crawl and wriggle through my nerves, like maggots in an animal's corpse.
Screams silently echo within my head; Fear infects my flesh.
And, with all my strength, I remain calm and collected to the outside world.
It doesn't affect me now.
I attempt to convince myself that I'm fine; much stronger than reality.
In actuality, I'm a girl crying "No" a million times...
...Only a million minutes too late.
It was my fault.
I try to convince myself it's not true, but my mind has been molded to think otherwise.
I reanalyze how it all happened.
I could have stopped it.
But I didn't. I was helpless.
I was weak. I brought it upon myself.
No. I let myself become helpless.
If it was my fault, I should be able to overcome it and move on.
Yet, why have I not?
Why has this ruined so many relationships?
Why has this stopped me from being able to love myself?
Why has this destroyed my idea of self worth?
How much longer can I go on like this before my internal screams become external?
I will never be the same, despite how hard I try to sell myself on this idealism of normalcy.
I just want to be normal. It's all I've ever wanted in my life.
Now, I feel as if I'm further than ever from the idea.
I try so hard to reclaim my body; yet, the desecration of mind and vessel bears it's scars in a way that I can't hide from.
A word that only I can see within my eyes.
A word that barely touches the surface.
Tell me, oh mighty maker - If I shall cut my chest open, would I not be full of a black void?
Because that is all I feel.
A word that I feel less than worthy of.
You'd think that I could gain control of my own emotion and thoughts.
Yet, with every touch of intimacy, scars and memories throb with pain and burn a new hole within my mind.
It's as if a nest of angry hornets attack my soul every time I attempt to heal.
Every time I attempt to move on.
It's not fair.
They did this to me.
This stranger wrecked my mind, body, and spirit.
And I'm the only one to blame.
And the only one to blame for all current, past, and future relationships that I will ruin.
Tell me, now - When a temple is desecrated, is it still a temple or just a building in ruins?
Is a body sacred after it's been pillaged and beaten?
Is a face beautiful despite it's scars and wrinkles?
I try to say yes, but my mind screams all the absurdities that plague me.
Sympathetics say yes, but only to a degree.
Once they actually know you, it's too late to hope for love and acceptance.
You had it hard?!
Oh, lets compare our paper cuts to your petty stab wounds.
Let us drink your tears and get off to your pain, as your soul drips blood into our streets of entertainment.
They don't care if you can't function. They'll just find another copy of you.
A number that lets them remain in their petty 15 seconds of fame and fortune.
Forgive me, for my spirit is beyond recognition.