Hands

I am of average height.

Somewhat athletic build.

But my hands are rather small for my body.

I stare at them wondering why they refuse to sync up with my legs, arms,breasts.

Then I remember.

I was 8 and you took my small hands and you made them dirty.

You covered them in your scent, your memory.

You took my hands and never returned them.

I guess that you have a habit of taking things that don’t belong to you.

You know why I attempted suicide?

Because it was the only thing I felt I could control.

The only thing left that was still mine.

You took my hands.

My stomach.

My thighs.

My childhood.

You took everything.

Except my life.

Thank you for at least leaving me with that.

Fuck you for making me want to end it.

Thank you.

Fuck you.

 

 

 

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