a poem i wrote in february 2016

hahaha! it’s so funny
how you’re rising in my now weary throat
how i no longer feel pain without convulsing
or how i eat sour candy lately to cope

“survivor” was not a title i wanted to claim
i only took it, i only made it my own
when the two syllable word “victim” made me choke
because it was all i could feel like i know

you texted me after to let me know you missed me,
but not before i decided against the rape kit
(what good would it do?)
not before i spent an hour-long therapy session entirely dissociated

it was weeks after before i remembered
i had to eat, even if i felt like i’d vomit
and i stopped sleeping 16 hours a day shortly after
but i still curl into myself without thinking whenever i sit

funny how i see myself as a bug now
i’m no longer a girl or a person or entirely alive
it’s so funny how i wish i really had my hard shell: cancer the crab
or the shiny beetle, but never protected like i desperately crave

it’s funny, so funny, bruises on my body, can’t trust anyone again funny
one of my ribs was cracked after - are you laughing yet?
stop looking at me like that, get that look off your face
this is like when i joked about my overdoses and people didn’t get it

i’ve saved the best part for last
trauma fosters trauma, and this wasn’t my first
i’ve already been abused, i’ve been raped, and oh boy! have i been hurt
so don’t think you took anything new, you weren’t even my worst