abuse

The hands that have touched me, The unknown memories, By body's way of protection, Those unknown hands, They come back at night when I sleep, No face, means no conviction, So young, the mind and body, It started at three, No one could believe, But my body knew, My body remember pieces, A puzzle that has shaped me, Not always for the better, But shaped me none the less, The pain, is not as bad as it used to be, Just trying to be me.