When the needle pierces my skin,
so many washed-away thoughts rush in.

Memories I’d thought were erased –
the slaps in the face,
the unwanted touch...
But you said you just loved me so much.
And a fool, I let it slip by.

Every last lie.

But as the blood pools in my navel
I can feel the coiled hurt unravel.
My bitterness untangles.

I’m no longer a victim on this table.
For the first time I am able
to say that this hurt is my choice.
Gone are all my pleas for mercy, unvoiced.

This pain is my power!
Instead of just cowering
there in your room,
Waiting for you
to inflict the wounds
you wanted to.

I claim this life as my own.
And I will puncture my skin to the bone
to make that known.

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