time is taking
its time
letting him
fade from the pages
ive spilled forth
a vomit of ink and
tears and blood i
leeched myself
it's dropped from my teeth
onto so many manuscripts
waiting to be told
a blinding rage
of the hurt
ive held back
and kept quiet
for so many years
so much anger
that ive hid behind
a bubbly smile
that only seems to grow
the more furious i get
so i retell the story
and paint the im a victim card
worse every time
because maybe i am
maybe i fucking am
and am too afraid to do anything about it
and this is me
crying for help
please, please someone
hear my cry for help 
and not believe me
when i laugh it off
and say it doesn't really bug me
it's just so funny
such a funny story
about how i
was wounded
as a child
would you like to hear it too?
it's quite the funny story