Scraps

 

Scraps

 

Why does a man’s love always involve such degradation?

Condemn me for wanting

Even as you exert your will over me

Standing over me in cement shoes

You might as well fill my mouth up with dirt right now

Bury me body and soul

Dig me up when you want to use me again

 

I’ve been mistreated the day I exchanged my girl’s clothes for that of a woman’s

But I still scamper with insecurely and all I wanted was what was posted on a backstreet boys poster

The boys would undo my bra through my clothes and try and get rocks where I would have to delve in deep

And blush as I cried

This not at all how I envisioned my youth

Barely thirteen dreaming of being sweet sixteen.

 

I read Anne Frank that same year

Fed my curiosity for my own body and being

I felt the connection through and through

And so I still hope to say to someone “stimulate my soul,

If you want no boundaries between us then knock them down with me.

Look me in the eyes because time’s the only love potion

Patience the only passion potion”

I can feel the eyes rolling already

But if it all means nothing, than I also am nothing

Some girls, I guess are inherently dirty and the rest us must be scraps.

The End

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