Huge trigger warning for this post. talk about sexual abuse

huge trigger warning for this post.
talk about sexual abuse, graphic language, depictions of abuse.
this poem is about my own experiences.

good touch, bad touch.
taught at a young age;
private places and boundaries.
but what happens when the bad touch
happened through a screen?

when you are threatened into the same acts
which threaten you to keep quiet;
when you are told
that you are not a victim,
life become complicated.

it's common sense, right?
just say no,
block them,
ignore them.
but it's not so simple, you see.

they bribe,
they push and pry,
they pull at you with their words.
they take advantage of you.
they took advantage of my


my empathy,

my kindness,

my need to make "friends" happy.

a child, is what i was.
you got off
to a child.
you begged a child
to make you feel "good".

look back at the things you did to me,
when i was only 9, 10, all the way to 13.
tell me, please:
what about sexually abusing someone
made you feel good?

the worst part is-
i can never bring myself any justice.
i can never stop these men.
i can never find true peace,
and i can never get rid of these thoughts.

the feeling that any boy, any man
has terrible intentions.
the intrusive thoughts which flood my mind
like a monsoon of pure pain.
there's not a single thing i can do.

there's nothing i can do
about the feeling of hands all over me.
the disgust and hatred i feel towards myself.
the disdain i feel towards my situation.
there's not a **** thing anyone can do.

i spend my days seeing
girls that were like me
finding nothing wrong
with selling their bodies
just to end up hating them.

they will tell themselves that
it makes them feel nice,
that it makes their friend happy.
they will tell themselves
it is all they're good for.

how do i know?
because i did too.
i still do, but it's easier now.
now they i see how wrong what they did was.
now that i have more control over my actions.

as control as i'm in of my body
i'm not in control of my mind.
they will always control a part of my mind.
i may not give up my body to them
but i still tell myself,

people will see you for your body,

not your heart,

not your mind,

not your personality.

and i will live the rest of my life in this
of self hatred.
all because some men
couldn't get it up

for a real woman.


in light of this poem being made as my way of opening up about my own abuse, i have found an old message which was the inspiration for this poem. it is a text i sent to an abuser of mine, the only one i ever really knew, when i confronted them for their actions. this text will be very graphic. .
read with caution.

"you know what i need to get off my chest? how much the thought of you and what we did triggers me. how you were just one of a couple dozen men that abused me before i was even fncking 10. how you have made me into someone that hates my body to the point where i don't want to be in it anymore. how from the very fncking day we started talking again in june of 2019 you wanted to start abusing me again. i was 11. 11. you were what, 15? i could throw you and jail and put you on the registry for that. but you know what? even if you're the only abuser i will ever know the name and the face of, i still feel bad for you, because you were so desperate, so fncking desperate, you had to get off using an 11 year old's t!ts. let that sink in, please, and then think about how you've irreversibly damaged my mind and soul beyond repair."

if you or anyone you know had experienced this sort of abuse, please know that you are not alone, and that you are a real victim of sexual abuse. your pain and suffering is valid. you are just as much a survivor of what happened to you as someone who was abused by a family member or family friend. and if you need support, please reach out to someone. i'm always here to listen.

1 Heart

Does writing poetry help you to process and heal from your trauma?

1 Heart

@CKBlossom definitely. up until i started writing, i didn’t have a way to put my feelings into words. with this, it’s a way i can put the feelings into words and actually understand them. my mind goes so fast sometimes that it becomes too overwhelming to try and dig through. writing it down (whether it’s a poem or journaling) helps me sort through the thoughts.