My Identity

Am I just a costume to you? While you fight to be misunderstood.

My skin, my flesh, my light it shines after years of pain, neglect and abuse

While yours seems self-induced as you take my skin, peeled freshly from my tendons and wrap them around your limbs

Begging for me to see you as your authentic self

While I bleed and pour my heart onto the floor, begging you to give it back

As you mock me for not understanding the newfound pain you’ll experience once you leave the house in my peeled off skin.

Give it back.

It belongs to me, it took years to carve it right, I learned to love the scars that fit perfectly over each muscle

The same scars they say were ugly on me they will say looks brave on you.

Should I be forced to agree? Or

Am I wrong for not accepting this stolen version of me?

Is my pain an ecstasy?

I’ve fought so long to speak out through the full lips you tore from my mouth.

And every time I’ve been told I’m wrong.

But then you wear my skin on TV and say it needs to be protected.

Just not with me in it. Because it’s you now.

It’s your story now it’s your pain now

And please don’t ask me how.

As I continue to bleed on to the floor, teeth chattering as I wrap my arms around the exposed muscles that still scream for a fight.

Do you know such pain?

You’re in danger for wearing my skin.

I’m in danger of never fitting it again but the scars prove I was never safe

So will you protect me now? That skin you wear is tough, and that didn’t come cheap.

It took years of being tortured, being raped, being beat.

Do you feel it now that you’ve borrowed it from me?

Now can I sleep?

Because it hurts. And I want nothing more than to lay on the floor with my muscles so sore but I can’t.

Because I know the moment I do, they’ll take more of me to give to you.

Then what will I do?

Is my pain not enough for you?