Victim Poem by Melissa Joy Chesky

Huddled;
Arms enfolding her legs
To keep her psyche together.
The thoughts:
Sharp, belligerent.

Their presence is left behind
Psychologically and physically.
Where their fingers travelled-
Prodded, penetrated-
Are bruises,
Like their touch against
Her arms and legs left
The ulgy mark of sin upon her,
Her innocence spent.

Everything hurts within
Every molecule that occupies
Space.
Everything yearns for
Evasiveness of what happened,
Truth is only held in to
Rot her psyche.

Dysphoria is all she feels now,
Fault is all upon her.
All alone,
To curl up and shrink away.

And now she has to be the
Housewife of her psyche-
Something she's never wanted to do-
And gather all the ripped pieces,
Trying to puzzle them back together-
Like the fixer she always was.