Why do you tell me that it gets better?
Why do you say that I’ll be fine? Has it ever happened to you? You wouldn’t know, till it happens to you, the hurt I’m facing will never be understood by you till it happens to you. You tell me to hold my head up, you say I have to be strong, you say to me that I need to rise up when I fall, but you don’t understand the hurting or the pain.
This is what happens when your identity is stolen from you, it is different for some other people but not me. All I ever wanted is to keep myself till the big night.
My mother warned me about the wolves that hover around but I didn’t listen, she warned me not to go but I went and now what belongs to me has been stolen by a faceless stranger. I didn’t give it out, it was stolen. So don’t you sit there and tell me how to feel.
Don’t you tell me to stop hurting. Hurting is the only way I know how to survive. If you weren’t given, don’t take. If you weren’t ask to touch, don’t feel it. That thing between our legs is personal.