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  • Writer's pictureUmi

Prisoner / Poem

Scolding water trickles

down my back,

like a warm hug,

only this time it is welcomed,

contrary to the unfriendly hands

that invited themselves among

my body before,

willingly violating my solitude

I sink into the hollow pit

of the tarnished shower floor,

scrub and scrub at my skin,

until I am free of his lingering grip,

until I feel liberated of the

encompassing imprisonment he held

around my bones,

hauling me in as I became paralysed,

yet another hostage of fear

So scrub and scour until your

skin blisters away,

and the understanding that each cell

in your being is replaced every seven

years is what keeps you alive,

and comforted,

Oh how lovely it is to know

one day I will have a body you

will never have touched

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