Years pile
All I think about is time
And ironically
The things I want to get rid of
Are the ones most commonly on my mind
Disgust with the self
I still see the oppressor in my mother’s partner
I still cry at night and wish I could resolve her love
And point her to the world outside of her
I still remember the things he told me
And sounds he made
He still comments on my appearance
Too often
And too blatantly
I shout on the inside
My throat is itchy
He disgusts me so much
I am disappointed with myself to be
The object of affection
This is personal
But not as personal as it gets
My boundaries are lower
My new ones I have set
I will not be quiet
I am taking all
But it’s not considered theft
If it was mine to begin with
He took little me from my nest
His fucked up demon
Is partially a part of me
With my own demise
I’ve been possessed


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