Pushing past the doors, of a window through time
I see my face
She is but a baby
The luxury of forgetting has yet to cross her mind
She is living the trauma
So that I have to mentally remove and tug your hands from my skin
Until my eyes are treadmills
Blinking until your picture is gone
As I become uneasy
You think something is wrong with us
She must be crazy
You are what's wrong with us
She lived it, yet I am still living it
Your sin I have yet to scrub from my skin
Your face I see daily, if it's not the one in the house,
Then it's the one from my memory
I feel sick, unable to run
But trying to get away
Our consciousness seeps to one
I quite remember her yanking the blankets and getting mad
The familiar shorts, unbuttoned and their beautiful crystals
It was never what I was wearing
I quite remember hands under a ruffled, pretty pink skirt as well
The crying as her car pulled into the driveway
I regret not telling her EVERYTHING
EVERYTHING he told me not to
I regret not being strong and stable enough to hold my ground
I AM SORRY BABYGIRL
That they do not believe you, now
Me, us...
But I see every time he got us out of bed to watch TV,
The texture of his lips, fucking slimy
GET AWAY FROM HER
Innocence was collected but you never passed go
I quite remember the covers being pulled away and off you
It wasn't the first time your innocence was to be drained
But our grandmother lives in a five-star hotel of forgetting your trauma
Because he would never do that to you
I quite remember, he did that to me too
And her excuse being that I would have told
I WISH I did
I apologize to you, baby girl that I never did, until now
You were just a young child, who was hurting and going through abuse that you couldn't begin to comprehend... Children are meant to be innocent
But I guess we never got the luxury
©medusas_
M