I thought I wanted it.
(please don't touch me)
I thought I could handle it.
(I don't want to do this)
I thought I was in control.
(Stop it!!)
It's too much, I'm not ready.
(Stop it! Please, stop it!!)
I'm no longer clean; I'm filthy, dirty, used up.
(Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!)
The physical touches may have stopped once I got out of the car, only been in it a handful of times. But as it drove off for good, I will never forgive him as the trauma will forever be with me.Â
(Go back and highlight the whole poem)
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