Dec 01
Monster_T_02's picture

It’s All Their Fault


I know,
My history may upset those around me.
But my voice can give no apology.
I know,
when given the choice between red or blue,
Sometimes the choice is not up to you.
And I won’t just sit here and spout,
About feminism, 
Femininity, 
Or Self Doubt.
But in the night those monsters get me.
Attack in and out of sight
Wracking for a coping mechanism to pull me through the storm.
thoughts that,
Worm their way into my head.
As sweet nothings left unsaid.
I know,
Men get raped too,
Men hurt too,
Men heal too,
Men are thrown into social structure and concepts,
Too,
But this is not about,
You.
This,
This is about,
Me.
About the twirling tendrils of my mind,
Giving no leeway or door to hide behind.
About boys making a B-line,
For what lies on my backside.
Little laugh and snide remarks,
I hide away from in the dark.
Thwack.
Another spark,
Of anger and Self Doubt.
And I wish I was the grout in our sidewalk.
At least then,
I would know my purpose was to be walked all over.
The thing about feminism and little girls,
Is that we don’t know the voice of our words.
When we are treated wrongly,
Accused viciously of self promiscuity,
We,
Agree.
Even when it’s shouted that that’s not the way it is.
the truth is,
It,
Is.
How do you expect little girls,
to point out offenders,
In a herd of those who stand behind him,
Blind him from her view.
Try to silence a #MeToo.
When her underwear is used,
land the president riddles abuse.
what would You do¿
Would You,
Stand in a pitfalls of Self-Doubt,
Giving no words of motivation you found,
Against an abusers whose career will amount,
To more than your life means.
Would you,
soeak up anyways,
try to find a safe place,
Among medical bills for suicidal tendencies,
And trying to start self advocacy.
You see,
This happened to me.
And I’m not the only one who grew up this way.
Taught that my voice will never have a say.
Told where I could and couldn’t play,
By boys who had to dominance over me.
Raised in a world where if I got hurt,
The fault was on me.
Keeping my phone away from my parents.
When a boy thought it would be funny,
To chuck the dearest thing to me.
Across a gym and over a balcony.
Neither a teacher not Counselor made in pay.
I did not get a say that day.
In the way this child treated me.
What are you to do,
When it seems as if the whole world is fighting against you.
How do you cope.
With a storm,
And watching the President harass Dr.Ford.
Thinking,
If I come forward,
Will this happen to me.
You have to be strong enough to do it anyway.
You have to fight with the world world is taking your voice away.
You have to be committed to it,
Or it never happened.
But what if I was still the age to go out and play¿
How am I expected to be held in this regard.
Have to do the right thing though it’s hard,
Thats suppose to be talking about,
When someone is mean on the playground.
Not for the monsters inside our own families.
Or the monsters from the trauma only our eyes have seen.
Where death seems like a pleasantry.
Only to me.
Or those who wish they had kil,ed me that night.
Because then,
Then I would never get my story out.
I would never be given the chance to put up a fight.
I guess they’ve gotten one thing right.
No matter how much turmoil,
Ridicule,
Or strife.
They should have killed me that night.
Because now,
No matter how awful the world is.
I will give my entire life,
To never hear anotherchild be told.
To go home,
Its all their fault.