Painfully obvious...
but they're all oblivious.
They only see what they want to see,
they never see what preoccupies me.
No-one came when I cried,
no-one saw as my soul died.
My only faith now, is from within --
all those good people? I know they sin.
All God's creatures? Someone lied,
as I lay down like a dog and cried.
Laid bare for the world to see
was my tiny body, shorne of dignity?
Internal turmoil -- body ravaged,
emotional meltdown -- mind so savaged.
Sex is hurtful -- sordid and bad.
To know this at eight? Isn't that sad?
To forgive -- not forget -- is now my task,
even this, though, is such a huge ask.
I try to be good, but then I can see
as I look in a mirror, what's missing from me.
I want to be normal, I want to be free,
to find a lover who's gentle with me.
To never again feel that sex is bad,
would be the best feeling I've ever had.
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