Stuck in the muck, I am a slut
There is nothing I can do but sit and sulk.
I can't control minds, I can't control your vibe
I can't control your life, but you controlled mine.
The only thing I can guarantee, is that theres been nothing
No proof but your delusions, that consider me a...
Slut. Noun. Derogatory. Definition 1: A woman who has many casual sexual partners.
Definition 2: A woman with low standards of cleanliness.
I was in 5th grade.
Because in 5th grade, clearly I had sexual interactions with many partners.
Because obviously I wasn't clean.
My own goddamn principle even "considered" me a slut, but that's another story.
Throughout elementary school, I aspired to be Avril Lavigne
She was the best damn thing, and eternally my queen.
She sang about love, heartbreak, and emotions
I had crushes, I was nice, but of course there were notions.
The teachers and students, tore me down
I was so unsure about what was going on, all i'd do is sit down.
Let their actions HIT me like a swift crack to the mouth
Like my tongue was ripped out, I couldn't defend myself.
I kept quiet in fear of more punishment, no need for double trouble
Because apparently that was me, deadass was in a bubble.
The first time I dragged that blade, and purposely made myself bleed
Was the first time I eventually felt free.
I was destined to find happiness, and with inspiration from my peers
My endorphins rushed while I made the first cut, and I lost all my fears.
My source of happiness, happened to be in my hand
I began to control my pain, I felt like I partially won the game.
I've always been different, growing up without a dad, eyelashes, or friends
I asked "why am I like this" and "will this ever end."
Trailing on throughout middle school, until I had enough
They'd run me to the ground, I shut down, stupid slut.
"Slap Ass Friday" was mandatory
Either I enjoy, or it's another slut story.
Getting cornered, rubbed on, while walking to the bathroom
With my saddened, weak thoughts rushing through my mind:
"Though I was capable to stop it, I didn't have time
To run away and hide, at least I didn't cry.
Clearly my red shirt, jeans and black vans are too provocative
And I could have pushed the strong fuckers off of me.
I was dragged down so far, I felt like I only provided excuses.
Afraid to confess my molest on my bus, I was scared
I didn't want it, but I must be a slut.
I only told because a staff asked me why we were hiding
Hiding from the boys girlfriend.
Because it was my fault he sat next to me
Putting his hands partially down my pants, and kissed me.
Getting sexually harassed through notes, and online
But I was committing the crime, and I guess I was doing my time.
Being disliked and threatened, due to someones decision
To ruin a reputation, and creating a repitition.
To hurt another living organism, just as yourself
We have the same capsule, except mine has dealt-
With your poisonous words and your hideous mind
In a world so cruel, you couldn't be kind.
To see my reputation shatter, clearly it didn't matter
The hurt everyone created, you bet I fucking hated-
Myself and became isolated, to prevent the fucking hatred.
I should have put up a fight,
But I didn't.
Cut off from society, turn by turn
Look to look, anxiety spurred.
Cautiously observing myself in the mirror
Just needed to see a little clearer.
Hoping my outfit wasn't too slutty
On an 80 degree day, some men are too funny.
Gotta make sure a 15 year old boy, or your husband
Won't jizz his pants in sight of damage thighs on a 16 year old youngster.
Each scar, a painful memory.
I respect myself, I understand boundaries
A boy spent the night once, only for one thing.
After preventing this disgusting decision, we fell asleep
He left immediately.
His friend and I talked, and I read the messages
"You said she was a slut", This caused more damages.
The situation was wack, no one had my back
But i'm thankful for the chance.
The chance to prove, that the word "slut" couldn't define who I am.
In July of 15', I met my king
And he's had my back since.
Unfortunately, this was the way people couldnt say
that I was still slut.
Everyone has a story, you, me, him and her
Some are worse, but all of them hurt.
Everyone is different, and if you think of degrading
Just keep your goddamn mouth shut.