I fun my finger along my arm looking at your handiwork, looking at what you left me to live with for forever, looking at what forces me to wear long sleeves everyday all the day. I cover the gruesome burn on my tarnished skin with my sleeve, no longer able to look at it.

There was a time in my life when I was a smiling child, unblemished by the world. It didn’t last long. I first knew something was wrong with you when it was too late. I knew when the damage had already been done. I should’ve told someone. I should have said there was something wrong with you. I should have told someone how cruel you are. I should have told someone what you were doing. I should have told someone about the pain I carry around. I should have told someone.