ONE, (TWO), THREE, FOUR, FIVE
It's racking up now but I'm still keeping track,
They're all even numbered; there's no going back.
Each time particular, each one has its twist,
Some worse than others on the ill-fated list.
With each passing tale, it's hoped that I find,
Some kind of solace from numbness inside.
You see there are no feelings, no anger to hide,
The blood never boiled, the eyes never cried.
Maybe this poem will spark a feeling in me,
Lets start with the first one and then we'll soon see.
The snippets and flashes are vivid through haze,
Nineteen years old when ONE laid his cold gaze.
ONE had a friend, guess that he's called (TWO),
Not sure which one to blame, not even a clue.
Left in a bar - such an irresponsible friend,
One drink, one spike and that was the end.
Blood on the sofa, seen while scrambling out,
Unmistakeable pain of that there's no doubt.
This one was different, I knew and trusted THREE,
THREE was my boyfriend, I thought he cared for me.
But when the pleas are ignored, saying stop becomes thrill,
My defences were weaker, I should have stayed still.
But I rallied against him, writhing with all of my might,
My attempts are so futile, he's pinned me too tight.
For him, it's a game - he pretends it's all just a ruse,
But I'm beaten and shaken, my wrists start to bruise.
I blame myself for this one, I was reckless you see,
But reeling from trauma, my drug habit consumed me.
He'd been rejected by me, how dare I do that?
Well that wouldn't stop him, G knocked me out flat.
I'd been carried and hidden, as limp as could be,
But his actions had been rumbled unbeknownst to me.
He said sorry after, I guess that makes it okay,
I accepted his apology that very same day.
Dumped by my boyfriend, I was hurting inside,
A foolish decision led to violation number FIVE.
I went to York to be consoled by a 'friend',
I was vulnerable, distressed - on that he'd depend.
Or better yet still, G would ensure his success,
I can't fight him off if I'm not aware of duress.
This time, I woke mid-way when he began to smother me,
I kicked, I screamed and wrenched myself free.
ONE and (TWO), THREE, FOUR and FIVE,
Frankly, I wonder just quite how I'm alive.
I should feel emotion, I should feel distraught,
The numbness I feel, in nonchalance I'm caught.
Why can't I respond? Why don't I feel hate?
I guess that part of me died, a little too late.