Being

Being
I hate me. For 'being'.
how stupid to exist as an object
not owned
by me
but by you.

Only 5 when it started.
so young, so early on
but i knew,
it was wrong
oh, i knew.

So glad to get away from him.
safe at home, not alone.
so no one knew
course, in years to come
they asked
i lied.
So safe at home. Forget him thought i.
so i tried and i did but neva did it go
..away, always there and then-
another, mum's boyfriend
cruel is the fate
that lead him here..
to me.

endured it i did.
for my mother's sake i must
carry on, be as normal
as permitted, i
held on
ready to die.

And when he left so great was my relief,
but held i still, onto the belief that
best not known
my suffering pain,
he caused me
then.

Then fate ruined me, for
it threw him back to me again.
now so alone, always so cold.
now he has fun, he
taunts and
he plays.

So tired of threats and the constant misuse
of my body but so scared, what if
people found out, how dirty i would look
to them, thought a liar,
how he laughs
roars.

Just 15 now, in my 'prime'
my body he enjoys. Worships.
i disgust myself and all i want
is to die, not much
but so selish when i deserve
but what i'm given.

His hands so big, so large, so rough.
he drools he teases and he kills me
systematically as he --------
how much have i lost of my life?
what i'd give to have
it back.