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Submitted on
January 10
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I want to tell a story,

but this story isn't a fairy tale

and it wont have a happy ending,

because the real ones, well

they never really do.


In high school

I picked up my pen

and I began to write

about love.

It existed and it was pure

and it was lovely.


But my rapist rewrote me.

breathing on my neck

and tracing my back with his fingers.

He rewrote me as broken.

He wrote me as a statistic,

as another white girl who got told

that she cried rape for attention.


But that didn't matter because see,

I wanted to tell a story.

A story about family,

about picking each other up

about blood being thicker than water

about how not everyone's home

had to be broken.


But my father rewrote me.

When i picked up my pen

he spoke words to me

that I swear bruised my whole body

and I learned that nothing

was thicker than his alcohol

and my home was already shattered.


But I wanted to tell a story.

so I picked up my pen

to write about god.

A God that could save anybody

And God loved everybody,

which was the only thing I craved.


But my best friend rewrote me

when She told me I was toxic and

that God only loves those

who love the right people,

and I got writers block

because I didn't understand

that love could ever be wrong.


So after awhile I decided

that i wanted to tell a story,

but this time i picked up a razor

to unwrite all the things

that everyone else had;

the alcohol and the rape,

the abandonment,

the brokeness.


I wanted to tell a story.

I wanted to tell my story.

So I sat in my bathroom

night after night

writting about loneliness

perfection, ignorance,

arrogance, love.


See I told my story.

My story was painful

and misunderstood

because no one took time

to read it, but now,

people would read me

everytime they look at my scarred body.


My story is in the scars on my thighs

that he caressed like he owned

while I was tied to his bed

with my own leggings.


I told my story with scars on my wrist

the day my father grabbed me

and put me against our back door

with his fingers around my neck.


I told my story with scars on my stomach

after my grandmother disowned me

and my mother told me if i tried hard enough

I wouldn't love women.


My body see, It tells a story.

A story that is frequently displayed

for everyone to read.


You see when people write

they make themselves vulnerable, they open up

to the shit world they live in to share a piece of them

but they can hide behind a book cover

or an anonymous name.


They wrote with pens but me,

I wrote with a razor blade.

See, i have made myself vulnerable.

I am my own book cover,

and you know how the saying goes

well they judge me by the way I look.


I wanted to tell a story, and I did.

But no one reads it.

All they see is scars.
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:iconbrooklyntux:
BrooklynTux Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2014  Professional General Artist
Deep.  Good read.  Thank you for the strength you have in opening up <3
Reply
:iconhecticharmony:
HecticHarmony Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you (:
Reply
:iconmissmerder1990:
missmerder1990 Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2014  Student Artist
im so sorry this happened to you.  i know it must get over wellming a lot. but, thank you for wrighting this. i thnk it opened a lot of eyes. you are an amayzing wrighter.
Reply
:iconhecticharmony:
HecticHarmony Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
thankyou, that was the goal. I appreciate the comment (: :tithug: 
Reply
:iconmissmerder1990:
missmerder1990 Featured By Owner Feb 10, 2014  Student Artist
no problem! Huggle! 
Reply
:iconart-lover221:
Art-lover221 Featured By Owner Feb 6, 2014
Really Sad  That was the most sad and also kinda beautiful poem I've ever read and it's just really heartbreaking you are a great writer.
Reply
:iconhecticharmony:
HecticHarmony Featured By Owner Feb 6, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you. Huggle! 
Reply
:iconart-lover221:
Art-lover221 Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2014
:)
Reply
:iconapparitionraid:
ApparitionRaid Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
*Grabs hands softly* Listen to me, there will always be someone to turn to no matter what the circumstances. *Begins to cry* Let no one but yourself tell you what you are. You are beautiful, strong, and compassionate. Everything that I just read speaks to me. It touched my heart. More than anything else could. No matter what happens people will be there to listen. Even me.
Reply
:iconhecticharmony:
HecticHarmony Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
That was lovely of you to say.
Thank you. I'm sorry I made you cry.
You are very sweet. *kisses your cheek*
Reply
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