I remember very clearly,
Tears trickling down my face,
The tears, coming from the damage you caused,
I ask myself, "Will I ever be able to forget this"?
The feeling of strange hands on your body,
Against your will,
Your mind becomes blank,
Your tongue numb,
You struggle for freedom.. But you get hit over and over again.
You can't match his strength
So you quit struggling.
Left alone laying on rumpled sheets,
Naked and alone,
Twists of blood and tears,
For a dignity that was snatched from me.
I try to clean up the mess,
But no amount of scrubbing will remove the dirt from me,
Like a rag smeared with mud,
I"ll be stained forever.
And no, he didn't care if I lived,
All he cared about was his satisfaction,
Now I feel dirty, low, used and molested,
I will always be a victim of sexual abuse.
Or maybe not.
Maybe I'll rise..
.. and rise
.. and rise.
This poem is dedicated to all the victims of sexual abuse. No one truly understands what it feels like but you. Though the world may seem to be crashing down, in the end, you shall rise.
Written by Queen