the flashbacks assault your body like
hailstorms on fragile glass,
like subzero temperatures
that make you choke
when you try to inhale.
your skin aches and burn
no matter what you treat it with.
you can't remember most days,
no matter how much sleep you get
or what you fill your stomach with.
it is astounding that you're still here.
why are you still here?
you remember the words he used,
you can't write them out.
they are too ugly,
they are too traumatizing.
the world does not want to hear about it.
the world would rather turn away from abuse.
you've already been met with a flurry of "no"s,
and that was before you gave any indication
of the horrors you survived.
people want sunny smiles and illusions.
you visited a park on a lonely winter day,
and let your inner child run free.
you searched for buried treasure and
found the courage to go down the biggest slide.
but that child was murdered, a long time ago.
by men all in a row.
they convinced a little girl
that they were not evil.
they convinced a little girl
that it was all for the best.
