as the wagon arrives
so here i am 33 and still the monsters hold me tight. just when i think i've broken free enough to move on. they sit in waiting for just one weakness, one small window to be cracked.
i guess if i weren't 33 i could still blame them - i can't. it's all on me now and i'm just not strong enough sometimes. all it takes a marginal images of doubt and my self-esteem already slipping; slips, falls and makes a fool of itself. so needy. never enough love to combat the violence i inflict upon myself.
i know better - i do. i've said all the things to young girls. expecting them to believe something i cannot! it's hard to know how to build a self when that self was rendered damaged so long before it ever had a chance to develop. who would i have been? i don't care. it made me who i am today and so much of that is good. it's the yearly lapses that just take hold. always around the same time and i'm also caught unaware. how is that possible? every year i think - no, i think i'm good to go - no sign of pain and torment and then they arrive in their wagon of guilt and shame, kicking up dust laced with anger and self-hate.
i never ask for help - my job is to help. who can i ask? who wants to listen to all this bullshit?! i don't anymore. i just want it all to go away. i want to wake up tomorrow and not be an adult survivor of childhood sexual abuse. can't i just have that? just that! i don't need to be rich or pretty or fall in love even or have kids or have a house or have much of anything but just that one thing i know i can never have...that's all that i desire. to wake up, look in the mirror and not see that little girl that was raped, abused and left. i was like that old dirty rag that well you may as well use one more time - it's already damaged. that's me damaged
i guess if i weren't 33 i could still blame them - i can't. it's all on me now and i'm just not strong enough sometimes. all it takes a marginal images of doubt and my self-esteem already slipping; slips, falls and makes a fool of itself. so needy. never enough love to combat the violence i inflict upon myself.
i know better - i do. i've said all the things to young girls. expecting them to believe something i cannot! it's hard to know how to build a self when that self was rendered damaged so long before it ever had a chance to develop. who would i have been? i don't care. it made me who i am today and so much of that is good. it's the yearly lapses that just take hold. always around the same time and i'm also caught unaware. how is that possible? every year i think - no, i think i'm good to go - no sign of pain and torment and then they arrive in their wagon of guilt and shame, kicking up dust laced with anger and self-hate.
i never ask for help - my job is to help. who can i ask? who wants to listen to all this bullshit?! i don't anymore. i just want it all to go away. i want to wake up tomorrow and not be an adult survivor of childhood sexual abuse. can't i just have that? just that! i don't need to be rich or pretty or fall in love even or have kids or have a house or have much of anything but just that one thing i know i can never have...that's all that i desire. to wake up, look in the mirror and not see that little girl that was raped, abused and left. i was like that old dirty rag that well you may as well use one more time - it's already damaged. that's me damaged
