I was young
I always learned to play by the rules.
There was an old man who said many new things I didn't know
If I let him touch my toys, that meant that he was friendly.
Wrong and foolish.
My mind was screaming
My legs were telling me to run
And yet I let him
Even if it was just a moment
It felt like years.
Years upon years my mind replayed the scene telling me all my flaws.
I screamed, i cried.
His fingerprints still appear on my chest.
Pain and agony still linger my mind when I remember the tale with the child and younger me.
The child said he wanted to play with my toys or else he will blame me for horrible things.
So I let him.
The child's fingerprints haven't washed off my pelvis no matter how much I scrub.
My hands still feel alien to my because he made me play with his toys multiple times.
They hurt.
And now I look down at the young me I want to hug them and cry because I know it hurts so bad that they will forget.
They will get called immature, filthy and hopeless because they are angry at the world,at everyone and everything.
They're angry at themselves because when they close their eyes they still remember the touches even subconsciously.
They will cry because the other kids call them weird.
They will cut their arms and torso just so they can punish themselves for their wrongdoings.
They will try to choke with a bed sheet because they want to feel closer to death, just for a little bit.
They will push everyone away like the fool they are
And yet because I'm a fool, I will love, after all the hurt
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
In My Head(I'm Insane)
कविताMy pxems The cxntent of this stxry has dark themes and self injury. Proceed at your own risk. This is nx lxnger a warning.
