assault.
this poem exhibits some of the thoughts and emotions that i’ve had regarding my own SA.
the most pitiful feeling that came with my assault;
was the false notion that it was my all my fault;
i’ve pondered about what i could have done differently;
even though that i’m aware rationally;
that the trauma was unavoidable entirely;
i still see the image of his perverted smile;
and for an extensive while;
i was in considerable denial;
denial as heavy as a ton of bricks;
denial as powerful as several kicks;
right in the gut, mind, and heart;
and the eventual realization utterly ripped me apart;
the anguish that went along with this event;
stuck in my memory like sturdy cement;
when i thoroughly realized that i did not consent;
i drowned in sorrow and tormenting lament;
and my positivity went into a rapid descent;
i was coerced into having intercourse;
invoking my feelings of self-remorse;
i’ve blamed myself for my his violation;
and his gaslighting and manipulation;
and his palpable desire for predation;
he pulled downs his pants while i was blatantly apathetic;
the perpetrator was miles away from empathetic;
and i still hear his ceaseless beseeching;
and i feel myself strenuously reaching;
for my courage, strength, and liberation;
and the conspicuous sensation;
of freedom from my resentment and vexation;
i’ve dealt with this trauma for two years;
along with it came an avalanche of tears;
the sound of my distress ringing in my ears;
and a broad spectrum of worries and fears;
i hope that my agony begins to dissipate;
i hope that i can let go of this heavy, emotional weight;
i hope that the effects begin to abate;
i hope that one day, i’m no longer inclined to fixate;
on the adverse perspective of my potential fate;
and i genuinely cannot wait;
for the day that the damage that this event has caused;
and the cycle of destruction that’s never been paused;
can decisively abrogate;
and i can lessen the portion on my plate;
and i can finally increase my ability to think straight;
and i have realized that it is never too late;
to utilize my experiences to advocate;
for those who feel as if they don’t have a voice;
for those felt like they didn’t have a choice;
and they can revel in total rejoice;
the day that they feel well enough;
to be released from the handcuff;
that ties them to each sensation of that moment;
each feeling of hostility, shame, and torment;
survivors of this type of abuse must stick together;
in an attempt to mitigate that stormy weather;
and to minimize the impact of the recollection;
and finally begin moving towards the direction;
of a mindset of increased affection.
About the Creator
zoe frenchman
I’m Zoe, I’m 21, and I’m an aspiring writer, filmmaker, musician, & mental health advocate. I’m a poet and content writer currently enrolled in the Creative Writing BFA program at Full Sail U!
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Amazing