There she stood in front of the mirror,
She could see her bed neatly done in the reflection,
That night phased in and out of terror,
Taking refuge in her parents room – the floor felt warmer,
How could she be so broken?
Was it all in her head? The former?
Shame is something people bring upon you,
Asking you to bear the weight till death,
She could not breathe, she wanted to feel anew,
Standing under the cold shower running,
She felt her body ablaze,
Clearly resonating his hands on her mouth while he continued boning,
She was weak, she wanted to shut her eyes for a while remembering how it feels to be touched,
A bookshelf for a heart, now the ink has dried up
Wounds heal they say, but the scars are a constant reminder until you let someone know that this world is too much.


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