Non-Erotic PoetryHurt '07Times of pain
Too many to count.
Abused as a child
Nothing was ever
Good enough.
There was never room
For second place.
Always someone
Was prettier or smarter.
Crying itself
A sign of weakness.
All leaving its mark.
Hurt as a child,
Follows on through.
Raped twice, molested
Still the abuse flows
Though not as silent as before.
Made to believe so many things.
Nothing is good enough,
I am not good enough.
Not worthy of anything,
Or anyone.
Love is just a figment
None would ever love me.
- 2.10.07 -
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