I would have taken her hand and walked through wildfires.
I would have been the one to know her inside-out, all the pain
That they injected into her body, assembling across the heart
Towards the electricity in her fingertips.
I thought she was too young to feel this shade of life, her skin thickened
Before her time, glued to mine, I melted away, the weight
That she carried within herself, waiting for cuts to release her.
I would have stood by her side, facing the grotesque grimaces
Alongside her, whispering that she looked ugly naked, that she
Was easy and cheap, that she would fail school, that she had no
Idea how to dress, that she was such a fucking mess, that she was
Too strange to handle.
They never knew what this girl had to endure,
What she survived every single day,
How her life was threatened when she walked home,
What her father said about her, to her, that she was a little whore,
That he was disgusted by her appetite, that she would always
Remain alone, that she looked atrocious, that she would end up as a nobody.
They had no fucking idea that she rebuilt herself everyday,
The will to live leaked out of her with acid and she’d find it
Still.
Nobody knew how much energy and power that took.
How strong she really was. Beneath the tears that ran down
Her cheeks, the masquerade falling apart, the fairy tales she tried out.
The courage it took to put on her shoes, stay in her skin and live.
They talked and butchered with their words never asking
What was wrong with her, why she locked herself in bathroom stalls,
Why she couldn’t look them in the eye, why she stuttered and
Hid who she really was.
They lived in their perfect little bubbles, judging everything
According to their high horses, bullying a girl whose sexuality
Had not awakened by itself,
A girl with hands on her body,
A girl whose fingers were misdirected,
Over adult flesh, against adult cheeks and lips and open mouths,
The tongue, the poison pouring out
Inside her and she would still hold on to love as much as she could.
Protecting herself on those toilet seats, in isolation, trying not to
Disintegrate, and she did her best not to drown in self-pity and despite
All of that
They’d peck at her, day and night, she was surrounded by her
Demons and I let her go too,
I gave in to the unwholesome circus and pretended that my
Life was perfect too,
That I was ready to do bad things, that I had no ideals,
That I had nothing to lose, that I, too, was made out of plastic.
And I left her there alone, ashamed of her,
Playing a role and shoving the truth that was her, aside, not realising
That she was the one who meant the whole world to me
Because we always have been one and the same.
Croque-Melpomene 