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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 14, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 14, 2018



Three times.

Three times the rights to my own body were taken from me.

Three times my voice was ignored.

Three times the words “no” and “stop” carried no weight.

My voice was trampled, overlooked, laughed at.

My attempts to halt the acts from continuing were named “feeble”, “weak”, and “not enough”.

I was blamed for all of them: they were all my fault.

I was high and fell asleep.


I was high and didn’t do enough to stop her advances.

I was wearing leggings that showed off my ass.

No one ever took my side and defended me.

I attempted to press charges once.

Only once because every other time, everyone said no one would believe me.

There would be too many holes in my story because I “didn’t try to stop them”.

The one time I trusted that someone would finally be on my side, help me, it fell through.

My only witness changed her story the day the state troopers talked to her.

Charges were dropped by the system because there was not “enough evidence”.

The only thing they could do to him was suggest he find another place of employment.

He still works there.

The other two times went unknown by most.

Only close friends knew about the incidents and even then, they still said I didn’t do enough.

They are no longer my friends.

I have horrible, horrible nightmares about them and their faces flood my vision every time I’m drunk.

But how do you find help when everyone you trusted to help, broke you more and told you it was your fault?

How do you trust someone to help when no one ever did?

How do you trust yourself to talk about it when the only time you can is when you’re blackout drunk and can’t feel the emotions that demolish your heart when you’re sober?

How do you get over it when you still relive it in your dreams, when you’re alone, every anniversary: December, January, and June…

How do you get over it when you’ve been convinced it was your fault?

You were the one who should have done more to stop it.

You should have screamed.

You should have fought back.

You should have told the authorities.

You shouldn’t have let them get away with it.

It was your fault, all yours, no one else’s.

You should be ashamed of yourself.

I do not want to hear that anymore.

I did everything I could.

I am no longer ashamed of myself or what happened.

I own it, let it make me stronger.

I am not a victim, I am a survivor.

None of you can take that from me, no matter how much you may try.

I am a survivor.

I am a warrior.

I am a fighter.

I survived.

© Copyright 2018 Alexis Behrmann. All rights reserved.

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