I am sixteen
I confess, but to all honesty
I feel old when the skin sags
and wrinkles blend
and the bruises that had once
grown and spread on my skin
are faded, gone, and the one
who gave them away like flowers
is gone, no longer able to
shove, and bleed, spit and sex,
rape and smile, laugh and smoke
beat and cry, walk and scream
to do any of those things to me
and I am then to old to fear
to old to feel the shame
that cant be washed away
by a thousand showers
and hundreds of soap bars.
but I am only sixteen
and he isnt gone
and my skin is still bruised
and he still shoves and bleeds
spits and sex, rapes me and smiles
walks and screams my name.
And I am not to old to fear those things
not to old to feel shame
the only truth amongst this all
is it cant be washed away
but thousands of showers
and hundreds of soap bars
and I am only sixteen
young and old
afraid and shamed,
dirty and unclean
I confess all this to you
I am.
