Slam Poem 1

The first time it happened I was lost;
Eyes closed wondering through the woods of my mind and running into trees 
I was young and a child and trying to find who I was.

She took me and killed me and yet I'm breathing in this stale fumed air of judgement and hate and shame 
The next time it happened I was older 
A teen in a lost world 
Trying to convince myself, yourself, it's love
You breathe in the words of 
Its going to get betters and please don't cries 

They tell us we didn't tell them fast enough and there is no proof yet: look at me 
Look at me 

The evidence is in my eyes, on my face, and I will never be who I was. where is the charge for that? where is the crime? why am I being told I didn't tell you:
Person with clouded eyes and judgement 
Fast enough?
Don't hold me, hold us, and tell us that we are making it a big deal

The big deal was him between my legs 
Her words in my ears 
The big deal is I'm hurting and bleeding and crying tears of pain and confused and why am I here and why me and you don't even care. 

But enlighten me please 
When in this world did we decide it was okay for you to take the one thing of myself that I have 
Sanity and clarity and youth. Vibrance and smiles and joy 

Enlighten me 
When I shouldn't cry and when it was okay to tell a little girl that its okay and you'll move on and tell me when it was reasonable for you to sit in front of me, in front of us, and tell us that we will forget and that it's not a big deal 

Tell me please when it was justified to have to tell me: where's the proof or why I'm sad 
I'm 17 and they're 7 and 3 and 10 and 15 and young and old you've already molded us. Me. To hate who we are and where we come from and you have the guts to tell me it will be ok

Raised in a world where you have to hate your stomach and your hair and your eyes and everything that makes you different and when they do this to us we are told to make it who we are and use it to better us?

Who are you to tell me to hate myself and make myself more perfect but to use the pain and suffering to make me better 
How are you at the authority to tell me it will build me?
And who are you: bald man black suit, to tell me that I can't rid my body of what they left in me?
Is my life a joke 
Why are mothers and fathers and friends taking this as an everyday
Couldn't stop it 
Might as well forget it kind of thing 

So please
Just hold us
Your words aren't helping they're sour and it will never be ok
We will never not cry 
So when you want to try again I'm here. Just like it always will be 
The first time it happened I was lost 
Eyes closed wondering through the woods of my mind and running into trees
And if it happens again. I won't be ready. But maybe you will be. 



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