The Hollow Knife by Raine

Raine

Raine has been writing poetry since she was in seventh grade and fell in love with a guitar player. She has had four articles published by Thought Catalog and several by Vocal, where one of her short mystery stories was chosen out of thousands to be a ‘top story’ on the front page of the website. She also published a short story in Siren Song Press, and a poem in The Anti-Misogyny Club. In addition, she has run a blog, written several poems, song lyrics, angry Facebook rants, short stories and seven books. To top that off, several of her readers have told her that her writing has made them cry, which she considers high praise indeed. Writing has been her passion for her whole life.

The Hollow Knife

Everyone is really gonna hate this

But you can’t hate this like I did

Uncomfortable for the time it takes to read these lines

A fraction of what’s buried deep for my whole life

My grandpa peeking

through a crack in the door

But he couldn’t save me

You were seven and I was only four

My innocence never had a chance

And you said you didn’t know

You were young too

But I was seven three years later

And that was something I would never do

And it lasted for only minutes

But the torture didn’t end

I guess it was funny to you

To remind me of your sins

Heavy breathing to trigger the child

Isn’t that wild? I bet people get what I mean

When I say molesting has a sound, breathing heavy and loud

And I would cry and scream and feel a deep rage

And you would do it over and over

Because you hated me so much at such a young age

And for me those sounds were never the same

Triggering me no matter what

Even if someone was just playing a game

A five year old with war flashbacks

P...T...S...D

For tiny little kindergarten me

I was CRAZY I was INSANE

For reacting to all that invisible pain

No one asked what was wrong

Why it was so hard for me to go to sleep

And she made sure all the grown ups

Didn’t really like me

She put darkness on me

made me the black sheep

I was prettier so I was a slut

A rebel with a cause who couldn’t shut up

A bad influence on the younger one

A grown adult calling an eight-year-old a slut

No one said a fucking word

but twelve-year-old me stood up

“What’s wrong with you? She’s a kid you know”

Shake your head at me because I was a lost cause

I was the trouble, because I didn’t like that shit

Talking back and arguing my cause

Told the one who took my innocence

Was the good one to emulate

Because of the things she pretended to be

But they didn’t see the hate

It’s like that to this very day

People pleasing sociopath

Histrionic shell of a person

That was never me

I could never be fake

So even though I was the victim

I got all of the hate

I’ve done a lot of shit

But I didn’t do that

I don’t watch little kids on TV

Or the internet

Or join pedophile support groups on Facebook

What’s that about?

If you didn’t know better then

You sure as shit should by now

Everyone wants me to give a second chance

Second? One million and one

And I’m not the only one

Trying to get with someone’s husband

At the rehearsal dinner?

Aww guess you’ll never be the winner

She’s been through a lot?

So, have I, most because of her?

Forgive but not forget

Because it hasn’t even ended

So, no more chances.

No matter what she pretends

Personality disorder never ends

Recovery? maybe,

but TED BUNDY went to church too...

I think I’ll keep judging by her fruits