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Concealed Sabotage

A story of hidden abuse.

By Mo. ThePoetPublished 7 years ago 1 min read
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Stay safe out there!

I was 8.

It was a family friend.

I am the black sheep and these things just happen to us, ya know?

...at least that's what they said

I just figured it was my fault, and that he'd stop...

Well, here we are.

The issue was your frisking derogative, when I asked you to stop you proceeded to drop your ego into my body, leaving behind the everlasting scent of

"I've embodied someone naughty, please take advantage of me"

so now I live with the tainting smell of your clandestine hobby

Continuing to undress me so you could finished what you started, there was nothing I could do but let you continue harming, then I departed and ever since then I've been heavy hearted.

You explain how you don't want to hear it, and how I should leave it in the past and just say forget it; but how could I when my virginity went missing when you escaped with everything that defined my femininity

You shattered my innocence for 5 minutes every Tuesday at 9 for 7 years I had to look you in the eye everyday, wondering why you had to touch me the way that you did

Engulfed by thoughts of antipathy, you have caused me to constantly look over my shoulders for validation and safety when my reality is that I validate my safety through the words hate me and hurt me because I've become addicted to the physical pain that the absence of self worth brings to my person... truth is, it's gotten comfortable.

Promiscuous no, lustful very.

This hurts any chance I have to love and be loved correctly.

When I said NO, you said YES so presently my NO means YES and my YES means NO and you're free to roam bc you're a predator with a drone and the synonym for that is because you're black and it's sacred to tell, but you're just another pedophile prowling on little girls tails.

YOU are the one that ruined MY sexuality in detail.

So now I am forced to live with trembling anxiety as my sanity.

Who am I and what have you done to me?

I wouldn't have to beg for an explanation to my humanity, if you hadn't decided to touch my privates, privately.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Mo. ThePoet

21.

Officially a College Senior.

Foster Care Alum.

Aspiring Social Worker.

Artist by many names.

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