2007 , I see you behind me, listening to your music.
Headphones in.
Teenage blank stare under your "man eyebrows"

I fumble with my fingers and look up, 
2008. You're in a coffin, with gunky make up and a smooth
baby look to your face.

Over me, you wouldn't get off.
Just like stepdad wouldnt get off of me.

Just like daddy wouldnt stop.

Just like just like just like.

I look up,  2013. 
The man who is kind in his eyes "All that is over, now your free".

I clench my fists, remembering the blank silent movements of your threaded pijamas rubbing against the invisible body I floated out of....

An anger is born in my palms, as I remember them being my shields against  the spitting words from my father's mouth...


Free?


Free.

belongs to the fake girl holding on to her freedom as she sinks in the quicksand labeled "free"

ignore it, 











its okay. 

It happened a long time ago right? 

Lets just be happy now...

as the quicksand curdles over the eyes and silences  the little girl....
who was claimed "free"