Put your hands onto my waistline move my hips into a slow grind…

Hey LJ-ians.
Blah blah biddy blah blah. Naw. Cool things are occurring. Party tomorrow. 17 people + me. Very cool. I rule. I’m rhyming. All I can think right now is that I’m not all here. Its unfortunate I know but that’s just how it is. I’m having a difficult time right now. I failed my novice test– which I saw coming but I can be hopeful. To add to that stress, I’ve started having the nightmares about my stepdad again, on a regular basis. Now I can remember them, and they’re violent. It’s like being raped again and again in my head and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I’m writing about it, trying not to let it cheat me out of life. But its there with me, like a scar that everyone can see. I’m hoping that finally pencilling in some time with my sweetie will make things all better again. 🙂

Here’s a poem… like any of you really give a fuck:

Raped
I can’t feel anymore
open my eyes
like I open a door
say goodbye to a dream
say hello to the world
How am I to know
where I am
or where I am meant to go
And how am I to go on when everything feels wrong
(I thought that life was better than this!)
Paint a picture in my head
and tear it down again
so that I never forget
the memory that lies with me in bed
Can you ever understand
the wound goes through my soul
faded haunting stories left untold
because things won’t change under your due diligence
they’ll step backwards when you see
the face underneath of a child that has no eyes to see
the truth of people young or old
or what intentions those behold
she has no ears to hear him say
the words that never go away.
Can you see the bruises on my thighs
with your mocking, goading eyes
and can you see where he held me down
rape me and go for another round
to steal a piece of the identity I’ll never have.
Stay with me until I’m asleep
for a moment where I think I’ll finally be at peace
but I’m trapped here underneath
exposed they show everything
every thing he did to me
and still you refuse to look at me and see
that I have nothing left to give you
and nothing left to hide
nothing left to bide some time.
I’m empty
and its all because you walk past the debauchery
with a smile.
Kassi Thomsen © 2003

Don’t try to psycho-analyze me. I know my world is fucked up. I live with that everyday. Don’t call me a victim because I’ve been a victim for years, and I refuse to be anymore. Don’t tell me I’m an angry person because I am little more than a survivor. I’m not strong I just live through shit and walk past it. Don’t pile troubles on me because the water that waits is so, so, so deep. With unnecessary weight I might drown.

Goodnight all.

=*K

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~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 05/22/2003.

One Response to “Put your hands onto my waistline move my hips into a slow grind…”

  1. i like it! its very real. i dont like it for what it is, but i like it for how it reads…:)

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