Who am I?

I am tired.

Don’t wake me.

Don't touch me.

I’m lost,

Inspired.

 

There is a time

in a child’s life,

where that child

must expire.

 

It wasn’t my choice,

Hell no it wasn’t!

It was his, not mine,

You know, my cousin,

consumed by dirty desires.

 

Closed doors, dark rooms.

It was I to be acquired.

A child, no more.

Secrets and barbwire.

 

I screamed,

“Why God?”

He called from above,

“No reason, I’ll protect you,

you’re another

that I love.”

 

From that day forth,

my thoughts have conspired,

that my worst day

was the day

that even God was a liar.

 

I grew up.

Normal as I could possibly be.

Is it possible to be normal

when you grow up like me?

 

“I’m neither here

nor there.”

Words to please

an unpleased ear,

and to create a restless

spitfire.

 

Pain has addled me

while pride resisted.

A mind of clarity,

some meds assisted

my journey away

from what transpired.

 

But I live in a world

where words can heal.

Sentences and periods

and asylums appeal,

and masses will grow to admire

 

Me, a girl:

vengeful and tired.

Outer beauty, maybe,

with an inner fire.

I'm lost.

Inspired.