To The Man In Blue
My arms became as weary as my body and mind.
That shovel I used to dig my own grave has become too heavy.
I cowered in pain and hurt and shame,
But mainly I put the blame on myself, the victim.
I trusted you and beat myself up over and over.
I blamed myself, which was worse than what you did.
I am innocent, always have been, you hurt me immeasurably.
I killed myself metaphorically; I was your doll to use.
I know you brought your friends sometimes,
And made me please them too.
You used your cuffs on me,
As I cried and yelled silently, hoping you'd just kill me.
My soul took a beating; it wasn't my fault.
You're a sick son of a bitch, a demon from hell.
I've put the shovel down now; there's one headstone.
It has your name on it instead of mine.
You made me keep silent for so long,
Until I couldn't be for one second more.
You used me repeatedly as your sex toy,
And then used your gun and badge to keep me silent and deathly still.
What you did killed me inside,
I became your broken dolly with no one to save me.
My smiles were empty and hollow,
You almost killed my precious spirit.
You threatened my family and me,
Well, you can't hurt me anymore, you spineless piece of shit.
My cries will haunt you before you die, echoing for eternity.
You'll have wished you hadn't hurt me at all; I can't wait to see you in hell.
I will stain whatever is left of your soul and suffocate your every thought.
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