Here it is one year since -
A year where you touched -
Your touch now an ugly disgusting wound in me.
A wound others refuse to look at,
For to look, they fear they too will be hurt.
The hurt has been for me to accept -
A hurt even you, the destroyer, cannot see.
You refuse to see for you know how bad it is -
How bad it is, can be found in your desires -
Your desires to destroy, to kill, to plunder -
Your desires to take, hurt, and never heal.
Heal or Hell?
Hell is what you created -
What you created you immersed and forced me in to -
You created a world so cruel, raw, and dark -
A world to conceal and cover all your destruction -
A world that you left me in alone to die.
And yet,
Here it is a year -
A year I lived with the results of your touch -
A touch, I am unable to heal.
The wound I have no choice but see -
Seeing only brings more fear and pain -
Pain that only breaks and binds me to you -
The destroyer, who refused to help -
You who refuses to be accountable for your vicious deeds.
Your plan to heal your own desires inside of me -
Now connect your intentions to the spoils inside of my soul -
Your intentions now seen only rot away.
You have my life - I want it back.
But you destroyed it - it is gone.
Hardly anything remains -
The remains are fragments -
Fragments now I must take, plant, and sow.
And, now, another year to grieve, not you - this year, me.
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