The story goes on

my story should be told

nevermind it not being about

Glitter and gold

little girls should know when danger is close

my story should be written

written in stone

so here i am

spilling guts and calling it a rant

i never learned how to pace myself

keep up as best as you can

we’ll start at 9

men who have touched me

hardly asked for the permission i wouldn’t grant

it didn’t matter what the answer was, permission, like my body- wasn’t mine

the women in my home were just as bitter and beaten from a world so unjust

and it didn’t matter if i ran to them

i guess i’m just not an easy girl to trust

we are the wounds that don’t bleed

from the men who came into our lives

just to take and take and take and flee

warping fragile minds into something filthy

no wonder my mother and sisters hated me

“you look like your father with actions to match”

“you’re gonna end up alone just like him if you don’t learn how to use a nicer tone”

funny “a face only a mother could love”

so why has my face never looked like that?

how was i supposed to walk into school with a bloody lip and be fine to carry on the day like that?

what was i supposed to tell the officer when they called me to the back?

sure they punched and slapped

and i probably deserved it like they said i did

but it’s not the worst of it

the story goes on

sweet 16, the world was supposed gleam

but i couldn’t even get out of bed unless i’ve had my lithium, zoloft and lastly prozac

untill the third attempt to end this story on my own terms

because the story was starting to get worse

i threw up the entire bottle and had my stomach pumped

i guess that’s about when i stopped “showing up”

in pictures, in school, to the dinner table, to family events

i layed on the floor for three months

my first real love had issues of his own

for 8 years that’s why we got on so well

and that’s why he kept me afloat

i loved him so much

but we grew apart, the way young lovers do

our minds and souls had morphed into young adults completely new

and at some point, we just didn’t laugh at eachothers jokes.

after so much mistreat i finally didn’t want him back

with this ending i learned, better ways to “cope”

in a house that is not a home

i turned 17 and i grew to find comfort in my reliable Jack

the story goes on, that’s not the last of that

i moved away, with my bestest childhood friend

i always called her my real soulmate

her parents bought a big house like they always talked about

and had an extra room put in the blueprints

just for me

because i was always running to her family in my times of need

they used to say “you’ll never have to stray”

“when you have us you have a place to stay”

and yeah for a year it was great

but she chose a temporary relationship over ours

and i was fine because it’s not the first time i have been betrayed

so at 18 i moved in with another troubled boy i really loved

another childhood mate, we were best friends since the third grade

but what was really funny about it all

he only ever thought of me as a girl to be “saved”

and that’s really funny because by our end

my end was almost a grave

nonetheless this story carries on

though some days it feels frozen in time and space

there’s a silver lining that traces all this tragedy

i finally got to a good part

i have a little life to shape

and a little nose to kiss

and a little mind to nurture

and a little boy to miss

now everything in between just comes and goes

and im okay with that because it’s all just a part of the synopsis

of a story not meant to be about glitter and gold

-g.m.t.