trauma

I scrub my skin, but it won’t erase The weight of hands I didn’t place. You heard me say no, you heard it clear, But power mattered more than fear. You didn’t ask, you didn’t wait, You chose control, you chose my fate. That word—rape—still burns my chest, A truth that never got to rest. I said nothing, swallowed blame, Thought I’d be punished, thought my shame. I stayed quiet, small and hid, But I was thirteen—I was just a kid. You stole my trust, my sense of safe, Turned growing up into escape. You took my innocence, ripped it away, Left me surviving day by day. But hear this now, I’m learning to see: What happened to me wasn’t me. I carry scars, but I still stand, Healing slowly, taking back my land.