An offer

 

Offering up my trauma on a plate,

I hope it is easy enough to digest.

I won’t tell you where they touched me,

I have bruises that will last

Me a lifetime.

Offering up my memories in a cup,

Promise me you won’t get drunk.

It will paint you in a different light.

But it will just be my luck

That no one notices.

I took you into my garden but all the plants are dead.

Couldn’t water it with my tears because I was just too mad.

Couldn’t care for them, because I am too broken for that.

I am holding up the world on my wings

And now I forgot how to fly.

I sacrificed it all for their lies,

And now I lost my paradise.

But you don’t ask me 

The reason, never ask me why.

So here I am standing

Until the end of time.

Just to make sure that it won’t rain,

Just to make sure I’m the only one going insane.

This loneliness is killing.

Offering myself up because that is

The only thing I learned from my past.

Their voices ring in my ears 

Selling me the story of how worthless

I will always be.

Offering myself up because that is

The only way I can make you understand.

I want to tell my story

But I have never broken their demands

For my silence.

I am done with watching backs turns when I ask for help.

I no longer have the energy to go through hell

Just to heal myself.

40 years of turning into a shell 

Has left me thin, and shattered.

My mind remains in collapse 

And my soul stays battered.

I really hope by now 

That you have gathered 

What happens when people

Believe they never mattered.

The wind will carry me away,

If I'm spread even thinner.

Although I never believed myself

To be a quitter,

I tattooed it on my skin

Everytime you called me a sinner.

Will there be a day 

When my skin grows thicker?

When my mind goes…. Still?

There is something fundamentally broken in the world.

If my life weighs less than getting their feelings hurt,

While beating me until my body is permanently curled up.

I am done sowing myself up to keep my insides in.

Now you will get an unfiltered version of me.

The blood stains will get out with wine, 

Who would have thought such a thing?

I am done telling you my break was just a bend.

Now you will get the truth about me.

You can febreze the stink of bodies piling up,

But you can't make my song end.