To the boys who stole my childhood,
Thank you for making me who I am.
Contradictory to the previous statement
let it be clear that you did not create me.
I am not a figment of the girl you designed
me to be. now i shall give you the
Satirical gratification you so truly deserve.

Thank you for the late nights of tears, coddled in fears, searching for the lightswitch, blurry Eyed and skiddish. Thank you for the heart break. Bawling so hard I get head aches. Thank you for speeding of my heart beat when I would walk alone down a street. Heart pounding. Boom. Boom. I’m thought my time was running out soon. Thank you for the secret realm that room became, doors locked, music up so loud no one knew what I was doing. Thank you for the alluring canvas dripping with crimson, the paint brushes made of razors and walls made of lies. Thank you for the relationships made of lies and misguided trust. Thank you for teaching me that sweet words can be decieving. Thank you for the brandings, the labels so crulely scratched in by their tungues sharp as daggers. Tarnished by their word hot as hellfire. Thank you for my inability to process the actions of boys. Thanks to you I tell boys I am not afraid when they jokingly say fight me because I know inside I am just as scared as that little girl with chains attached to a body of a man wrapped around her neck, struggling for oxygen, legs dangling, feet searching for earth to grip onto. I shutter and writher beneath the touch of a boy’s hand on my waist because I know the consequences of the words “no” or get off. The words stop from MY lips lands as a loose translation of try harder on their teenage ears. I go no where without something to be used as a weapon in case I am found alone after dark. I am never found alone. Girls travel in packs. It is an unspoken code of safety. We are taught that combined our bodies can be used as weapons. But to me my body is an unuseful weapon. MY BODY.. Is a battle ground and each mark on my skin is a war that I am unable to tell if I am losing. And each inch in physical scars is a mile in mental that will not fade so easily. If time heals all hearts and wounds than these crimes committed against me must have been timeless. The cat calls land like blairing trumpets trumpets in my ears, startling me causing my heart to speed, my thoughts to bleed into my subconscious where twisting vines creep through my mind and down my spine winding into veins with poisonous thorns intoxicating my bloodstream. So to the boys who destroyed my innocence. Thank you. Thank you for showing me the terrible things that human beings are capable of. Thank you for the lifetime of hurt within my childhood. Thank you for eradicating my childish thought  Thank you for giving me the ability to see pain in another’s eyes and hear torture in another’s voice. Thank you for fabricating the circumstances to create this beautiful monster that you have because with out her the world would not hear the words of kindness and love that I have to offer. This world would not know what awe inspiring creatures stem from tragic disasters. I would not know the strength I have to be able to rebuild. So to the boys who broke me. Thank you.