I'm back to where it all began. 
The same bench, and the same view. 
It's nightfall and it all rushes back as if it was yesterday, and not 8 months ago. 
I remember how you begged for my hand, like a dog begs for a bone. 
I refused to look you in the eyes. 
How can one see eye to eye with their personal demon? 
You craved my forgiveness, saying I was ripping you apart. 
It doesn't matter if I was the one who was shredded to pieces with a pair of scissors. 
It doesn't matter if I was the one who was raped time and time again. 
It doesn't matter if I was the one who was told what to do as a slave to your beckoning calls of my body and mind. 
I was nothing to you but an inanimate object, a child's toy who was crumbling at the touch. 
A child's toy who slowly lost its joy and life for others. 
I drowned myself in the sea of your wishes, and I'm struggling to find her. 
I wouldn't wish this hell on anyone. Not even my worst enemy, which is you.