i’m laying in bed, woken up at 3 am
for the fourth time this week.
i can’t believe i’m still crying,
rape isn’t for the weak.
i’m remembering what happened,
going over it in my head.
i used to feel safe at home,
now i don’t even feel it in my bed.
i’m dreading waking up tomorrow,
wishing i wouldn’t at all.
i didn’t take the step,
why did i have to take the fall?
i’m losing all hope that
i’ll ever be a whole person again,
it’s messing with my soul,
it’s messing with my head.
i need a hand to hold my own,
a reason to stick around,
because people like me often
wind up six feet in the ground.
