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I'm new to this site so I'm still trying to get to grips with how it works. I decided to join this because I realised that I need to be able to talk to people who don't know me personally. I saw a child psychologist when I was younger but it didn't really do anything for me.
SO NOW TO THE BIT ABOUT ME, HOSPITALS ETC
I was born on 11th April 1995 in Liverpool 5 weeks early, along with my non identical twin sister i will call C. When my mum was pregnant with us, I didn't grow very well and I still don't know why....Apart from that and the fact she was massive(seriously, there are pictures and she looks like a beautiful football with legs and a head)no other complications with the pregnancy that I've heard of. The birth was what the doctors would call traumatic. I was the first out by fifteen minutes after getting stuck and needing to be sucked out by a ventous, which is like a big hoover. I feel most sorry for my mum because my dad ran out of the room and then got angry at her because he couldn't get back in, despite the fact she almost needed a blood transfusion. So after we were born, we were put into the special care baby unit because of the fact we were premature, I was 3 pounds 14 ounces, but the doctors later discovered that I was suffering from a condition called Hirschsprung's disease. Without going into any particular gory details, I will just tell you that it basically meant that my large bowel was dead(in my case it was the whole thing)and had to be taken out urgently. I was transferred to Alder Hay hospital for treatment where I received all major medical help from then on, and at one point spending almost a year there, I have had approximately 7 operations. The medical stuff didn't stop after I left the hospital because I still had to have things changed regularly and get hooked up to a feeding machine at night. Most nights I would accidentally lie on the tube in my sleep and the machine would beep, poor mum would have to get up and stop it before it woke my sister. It was also a bit of a pain at times because I would wake up and the tube would be wrapped around my tummy and pulling. One thing I didn't mind at all was the milkshake type drinks the doctors gave me to fatten me up they were delicious! There were three flavors, chocolate, strawberry and banana, my sister even used to drink them. I don't remember much about being in the hospital, but I was in that place at a crucial time in my development in regards to getting to know where your home is and who your family are. I remember following mum everywhere because I was scared she would leave me, I still have a bit of that. People have said to me that I must have been affected by what happened to me at such a young age, but to be honest I don't know. When I was in the hospital I just got on with it because it was all I knew. I am scared of blood tests even though I used to have one every day, and I get nervy about injections because of an allergic reaction I had to something the doctors gave me(I went blue and had a fit). But most of my memories are good, like the lovely doctors and nurses I met that looked after me and genuinely cared about me, and standing on the machine I was hooked up to and being wheeled up and down the ward pretending to take people's blood.
Final Things to Say:
I am so embarrassed that I had such short hair that I looked like a boy.
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On Friday, Pamela Anderson gave an absolutely heartbreaking speech at the launch of her animal rights charity, in which she revealed that she suffered sexual abuse throughout her childhood.
According to the transcript of the speech, which she has since posted on her blog, the abuse began when she was six years old:
At the risk of over exposing myself...again, possibly being inappropriate...again. I thought I might share with you events that, in surviving, drove me to this point right now. I did not have an easy childhood — Despite loving parents, I was molested from age 6-10 by my female babysitter.
Two years later, she said, she was raped by a friend's brother:
I went to a friend's boyfriend's house while she was busy. The boyfriend's older brother decided he would teach me backgammon which led into a back massage which led into rape — my first heterosexual experience. He was 25 yrs old. I was 12.
And in 9th grade, she continued, her "first boyfriend... decided it would be funny to gang rape me with six of his friends."
In the aftermath of all the horrific abuse she suffered, said Anderson, she had "a hard time trusting humans" and "just wanted off this earth." It wasn't until she discovered her love of animals that she found a sense of purpose: "My loyalty remained with the animal kingdom. I vowed to protect them and only them. I prayed to the whales with my feet in the ocean. My only real friends — till I had children." And now she's been advocating for animal rights for 20 years.
After the event, she tweeted "I want people to know - they can overcome and prosper with love." I'm very in much in awe of her strength in overcoming all of this trauma and her courage in coming forward with her story. [CNN]
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So, here I am in a kindergarten class and the teacher announces it's time to stop playing with the toys and move on to another activity. All the other kids move with ease; however, one boy begins to pout and begins to go into what lasted as a 20 minute tantrum one of which I've never seen before in all my 40 years. The teacher calmly walks over to the boy and asked him to use his words. Oh boy did he! He used not only HIS words, but words I'm sure he'd heard from someone who was not of the kindergarten persuasion. The whole time I'm watching in amazement and it struck me. This was the exact same thing that happens at my home except my kindergartner was a grown man. Sometimes I feel like it's the calm before the storm. Everything can be running smooth and then BOOM! The temper tantrum begins! I thought is was so ironic; the commonality between this Little Man and the Little Boy.
The girl with he questions about why, how and what is back...I am a mess again but smart with all the knowledge learned from another place that ended up in disaster. I joined a website for abuse victims in 2008 and it was wonderful at first. I learned a lot andmade a few friends. I even traveled via airplane to met the creators.The entire site fell apart...Everyone left. I have decided to try OP forum for an outlet. A very close friend that I trust led me here...So, here I am. II have a thick skin and I like tough love...So give it to me...XOXO
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Holidays were nice. I guess he finally took to heart some of the things I said to him 2 weeks ago when I was sick and at the end of my rope. WE actually went shopping for an entire day and finished the kids stuff - and he surprised me with a really nice, albeit, unnecessary gift. I surprised him with pj pants He also cleaned up the bedroom, wrapped gifts with me, and even went xmas-lights looking on xmas-eve - something he claimed a few days before was akin to watching the grass grow.
But of course, things couldn't stay happy-happy-joy-joy forever...we bought gifts for our nieces/nephews. We didn't exactly go out of our way to reach out to any of the in-laws since Thanksgiving - surprising to me since they usually stay in contact to make sure they get presents whatever - I believe I've done everything within my power to remove myself from most contact with them - and in general, have always let R deal with his family, since all have made it clear they don't like ME (b/c of course HIS behavior is MY fault ).
So, he did reach out late xmas night to SIL and let her know we had gifts for the kids. Her responses have all been "please bring the presents to the kids on _____ if thats ok"...Not "hey, lets get together and have lunch/dinner and the kids can open their stuff..." nope - it's JUST been about dropping off the gifts. I think we can take a hint!
So, R is taking the stuff over on Sunday - I haven't decided if I'm going to go or not. I was just reading NR4U's thread and MG's / Binks response about "going-along to get-along". This may be selfish, but I feel I have been the bigger person over the last almost 20 years and my give-a-phoey is busted. I guess I should note for anyone who does read this that my in-laws are all very poor / on state assistance and do NOT buy gifts for our kids. They don't have the $ for gas to drive the 50 miles round-trip. They may not have any $ for food right now since its the end of the month. Honestly, this doesn't matter to us - but what gets me is the rudeness of the texts. There is no subtlety about what they want. Somehow I got stuck in the middle of this one - idk why, especially since I didn't acknowledge her message to me the day after xmas...
The latest part of this insanity is - over the spring - R borrowed his brothers (T) floor gun (nail gun for flooring) to put the wood floors in the basement. To our knowledge, this tool belongs to T, not SIL's husband (. The other day, SIL texts and says "can u have him bring the nailgun when he comes please we have work that needs to be done thank u".
WHY are you texting me? It's taking all my will power to not respond with "Please text HIM directly - I am not a messenger, thanks" I haven't - the response seems rude.
Here is where my observation comes in...I forwarded him the message and (tried) talked to him about it last night. I asked if he had responded to the message - he said no and I said, nicely, that I didn't want to be involved.
They have been asking us for the nail gun since the end of summer (when they found out from another relative we had 'finished'). I know they briefly discussed the nail gun with ME at Thanksgiving - supposedly they had sent a message to R about it and then confronted me about not bringing it R says he never got the message either (????? - I have no idea if thats truth or lie).
Anyway, back to last nights conversation (add in the fact I was PMS'ing from hell & had to cook for a party at work...)...so then I got kind of nasty & told him I just want this nail gun stuff to be resolved & to take the silly thing back. He gets nasty right back:
"The thing doesn't belong to B, it belongs to T. I don't have to return it to B - when T wants it back, I'll give it back."
ok - I understand this, but possession is 9/10th of the law in his family, and the last person in possession was B - or at least, it was at his house. So I did suggest he get in contact with T and see if he wants us to return the tool to B. Personally, with his relationships with his brothers being so strained right now, I think T IS going to tell R to return the gun to B (and why R was getting so defensive, b/c he knows I'm right )...but I'll get more into WHY I think so in a moment...
"T still has my $$$.$$ welder and they are not getting the nail gun back until I get my welder"
hmmmm - I get the underlying issue here...but imho, we can't hold this tool 'hostage' b/c he let T borrow something of his.
"Well, (blame, blame, blame) then I'll just go & buy a $$$.$$ nail gun so we can finish OUR house".
Ok - maybe this isn't such a bad idea since there are cosmetic finishes that need to be done to the basement, we are replacing the stairs with wood and the back play room. Yes, I get the T's nail gun is a top-of-the-line one and was expensive...but really, it is HIS, not ours...
So, I know we are not suppose to try & understand our abusers, but I will say WHY I believe R got so defensive (although, he didn't really cuss at me - but he was mad). I believe he KNOWS if he messages T, the likelyhood of him saying the nail gun needs to go back to B is 90% I only harbor the 10% b/c idk what the relationship is like between T & his mother right now.
T let us borrow the nail gun when we were still on his good side, when he was not speaking with / living / dependent on their mother. Since he "found god" (in jail!) and repaired his relationship with her, apparently (from what we've heard through rumors), he thinks R is being childish and needs to mend his relationship with HER...everything that happened between them was HIS fault (vis-a-vis, me to some extent of course). This is all bullshister - T needed some place to go after he got out of jail b/c his g/f's family kicked them out - so he had to make amends for all his wrong-doings.
Lets add one other "little" caveat to this craziness - the nail gun in question was NOT bought by EITHER T OR B - R's understanding is it was GIVEN to T by their mother (THEEVIL) . Here is the thing about the psychopath - she NEVER truly GIFTS anything!!!!!! If she paid for it, I am almost 100% certain THEEVIL believe's it's HERS - and again, a reason R got mad was b/c he KNOWS this too.
So, my reasoning at this point is THEEVIL knows R has the nail gun b/c B probably told her we won't return it to THEM. When / if R messages T to ask if we can continue using it, based on where everything stands at this point, the likelyhood is he (via his g/f) is going to say it needs to go back to B. They'll be nice about it, but will say B needs it, etc...
So, let throw in the monkey-wrench of the welder. Both tools are worth abouth the same - but as I said above, I don't think we should / can hold the nail gun hostage. My MAIN reason for this, which I did bring up to him, was b/c THEEVIL has gone psychopathic before when her property isn't returned. I flat out told him my fear/concern was, based on her current state-of-mind, we may end up with the Sherriff on our doorstep to get the tool. Idk how this would work though - it was bought at least 6/7 years ago, but if THEEVIL has the receipt I know we couldn't legally hold it. The worst part is, we DO NOT have the receipt for the welder (altho R has the paperwork).
My whole point of this rant was that I don't want to start WWIII with his family over a couple hundred dollars worth of tools. He KNOWS how they are about possessions - and if he continues to refuse to return the nail gun, I could see a definate escalation - perhaps even to the level of the police.
I'd also note R has NEVER (to my knowledge) requested T return the welder - although he does know B has been asking for the nail gun for awhile.
I just want out of the drama & dysfunction - which is why I have not messaged SIL back with my snarky response to her request for the nail gun & also why I just want this to end...even if it means we lose the welder.
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Well. I have a new life now. Sort of...
I got rid of the most evil person I have met in my life. And, Dear Reader? I have met a lot of bad people. This one I invited to my bed and into my life.
When did the abuse start? I know when it ended. It ended on September 27, 2011 when I told him not to come back to Georgia because I had to sort out my head over the past abuse which he never really acknowledged. Blame? It is the abuser's lover. You think you had a spot in his life? no, No, NO! They will blame you for everything until you leave them then they sort of apologize, then blame, then break down, then stalk you, then blame, then you see the cockroach that slept next to you.
I found out he was a felon a few months after I dated him then he committed the same felonies against me. And, the only regret I have now? I don't know? Would I have put him back behind bars? Well. Now. Absolutely.
I was this one thing and now I have become another. It's like the "elephant in the room" that no one sees. I want to be her but I am me. Nightmares. Anger. Hate. Attempting forgiveness. Mad. Anger. Journaling to uncover the lies. Broken. Surviving.
I decided I am writing a book. It will be called 365 Days because I managed to escape that quickly. I remember prior to boarding his boat having a premonition smoking a cigarette and one year to the day standing outside the Women's Recourse Center in Decatur, Georgia smoking another cigarette remembering it all.
How did I escape? I quit believing his lies about who he is and "that's just WHO YOU ARE!". I saw things for some reason as they were and not through the filter of his mind.
I will be whole but I seriously know he will assault another woman again. And, for that I have guilt that I did not stop him when I had the chance.
I will be whole but sometimes every night when I can't get over it I wonder when? i have broken up with a lot of guys. This one rearranged the furniture in my head.
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I have an online blog that is fairly boring; it's really just a recitation of my trips to the Post Office and what I did that day. When I broke up with the abuser in December 2010, she started visiting it obsessively, upwards of 10-30 times a day, and it made me very nervous, so I moved it and completely deleted anything from the url where the journal had been originally.
Then a friend of mine who very rarely reads my blog but occasionally pops by pinged me, saying “Hey, where did your blog go?” I realized that removing it completely from the /wordpress url meant that there are people whom I would be glad to have reading, but who wouldn’t necessarily know how to reach me if they went by the old url and found a 404. So I setup a basic this-blog-has-moved-here’s-the-contact-email page, and, being the paranoid sort convinced that J can’t leave me alone, I put some statcounter code on it. Sure enough, within 10 minutes of the page going up I had a hit from her.
I guess my point is that it doesn’t matter how much J might rant in her journal about never wanting to see me again and saying that she’s posting private emails and mean things to keep us away. The fact is she is dying to know where I'm writing now and will obsessively check that url in the hopes that something substantial will one day be there. Admittedly, that’s no different than her behavior during the first 9 months of the breakup, but it puts the lie to her posturing this past week. (And no, I haven’t been reading anything by her. This is all based on the last reports from a friend before we mutually agreed that having icepicks in our brains wasn’t fun.)
So, given this information, I am remaining on Homeland Security Threat Level Orange. My finger is hovering over the delete-permanently button as I wait for a nastygram to come in.
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I’m BuzzKitty. When I started at the litter box in April of 2007,and was in the furtive stages of figuring out just what was wrong with my year old marriage, I shortened that to BK1. I did that to attempt to remain anonymous, since I use BuzzKitty as a handle all over the web. Now I don’t care who knows who I am. Getting out did that for me.
Buzzkitty was the coolest cat. I got him my junior year on college, and he died in 2000. I still miss him. He was the best cat ever, in a "if you pat my asss I will bite you" kind of way. He was attitude, and sweetness, he was independence and he was my sweet love. I think I'm worthy of bearing his name.
I graduated from college in 1990. I worked and lived as a happy single. I met my first husband in 1994, and we were married in 1996. He was a very nice person, but we were incompatible intellectually. That probably sounds snobby. I cared about him, we have two children together, he treated me very well, but no way could I spend the rest of my life with him.
The catalyst for change, for me getting out of my marriage was a guy I met at work. We'll call him Massengill for obvious reasons. We met in 2000 when I was pregnant with my daughter. He was going to be the new sales manager at my company, and in fact was going to fill in for me when I was on maternity leave.
There I was, 9 months pregnant, looking like I'd swallowed a couple of watermelons, just waiting for the birth of my baby. He was sitting in the hallway outside my office. I saw him, and actually felt the world shift. Or maybe it was the floor shaking from my incredible gravid girth. Tee-hee. Actually I've talked at length to my therapist about what it was I saw, what exactly I felt. I am the adult child of an alcoholic, and she theorizes that what I saw was the familiar. I saw his addiction, so to speak, and was drawn in.
He was gorgeous on the outside, and I grew to love him on the inside. We were friends at first of course. I was still married to another. But he would spend long periods of time in my office. We talked about everything. When he was traveling for the company, I would miss him deeply, and eagerly anticipate his calls. They started just being at work calls, but then they carried over to the evenings. My husband worked nights. I enjoyed talking to Massengill in the evenings.
He was smart, funny, engaging. I fell in love.
I left my first husband in 2002. Our kids were four and two. He was blindsided. He expected us to be married forever. I don't think I'm actually capable of "forever" but that's another tale to tell.
I divorced in early 2003, and started seeing Massengill. Our early days should have been a red flag to me, but I was too giddy over being "in love" with him. He would constantly throw up roadblocks to our relationship, break up with me, then tell me how stupid he'd been, how much he loved me, how much he wanted to be with me. In many ways, I think it was the early hints of the cycle of abuse. Push away, pull back in. Oh how brilliantly clear hindsight is.
It wasn't long until we were talking about living together. We did so in early 2004. The early days were okay. He drank too much. As in every single day, but I managed to gloss over that. Often, I'd just join him. He was warm and funny and very loving. He accepted my kids. Things seemed fine. He did have quirks though, that I found bizarre. I'd never lived with anyone who got angry about such insignificant things.
He couldn't find his keys and would rage at me or the kids. He'd slam things around. He'd stomp. I would be taken aback by this, but I glossed it over. He was increasingly withdrawn. Just silent. No reason that I could see. I would wonder why on earth he was acting like he was. What did I DO?
His drinking continued, and escalated. He was putting away a big bottle of Jim Beam every two days. He was highly functional though. He claimed he didn't have a problem because he went to work every day. Ahhh, the logic of the addict.
We were happy in spite of what I perceived to be his mood swings. He seemed to have trouble controlling his anger, and seemed to blow things way out of proportion.
The overt abuse didn't start until his father passed away early in 2005. I'm quite certain that his father was physically, emotionally and verbally abusive to the entire family. I'd seen the physical scars on his body, and the emotional scars were manifesting themselves with more and more regularity.
His first incident of outright verbal abuse came after the death of his father. He was drunk as hell, staggering, slurring, and you couldn't ask him much when he was like that. You know, "Can you please turn down the music?" he perceived as a gauntlet being thrown down. He would rage. This night, I can't remember what mundane thing I'd asked him. Probably the music volume, as the kids were sleeping. I've blotted out the catalyst, but boy do I remember the reaction. He called me names. Horrible, demeaning, demoralising names. I remember just shaking with fear and horror. Who was this guy?
I remember the next day pouring out my heart in a long e-mail. Why oh why do you treat me this way? Why are you with me if you think such awful things of me. What a steaming crock of turnips.
This pattern continued and escalated, I'd say. Drunken rages over nothing. Me trying to figure out what I could have possibly done to warrant this treatment. Heartfelt e-mails. Apologies. Sweet and loving, and attentive after every episode. Ahhh, the cycle of abuse.
Things got infinitely worse when his "baby" brother died. He was killed in a car accident. The aftermath was nothing short of nuclear fallout. The abuse became a weekend event. Man he was a Richard. I still couldn't imagine what I had possibly done to warrant this treatment. I still thought I was the cause.
I decided to try to buy a house in early 2006. I would buy it in my name only. He was a financial disaster, and we were not married, so it was only logical to buy alone. I found a cute little condo. We moved. We cycled through the stages of abuse. He asked me to marry him. Of course he did. I was starting to really resent him and his abuse. I was starting to want to get out. The ultimate Hoover, and I fell for it.
We married May of 2006. It was a small family wedding. I was happy to be legal and official. I was glad to be able to call him "stepfather" legally. But at the same time, I was terrorized with words every drunken weekend, and many weeknights as well.
I found the Box in April of 2007. I was starting to google phrases like "husband calls me names" and the like. What an eyeopener to stumble into the box. Here were legions of people going through EXACTLY what I was. Seriously. Line and verse. I was verbally and emotionally abused, and the blinders came off then.
I continued to live much the same way. I would have moments of clarity. I would say, "I have got to get out of this marriage." I would tell him I was miserable. I demanded that he stop drinking or leave. I told him get therapy or leave. So in April of 2008, in the quest to pacify me, he found a new therapist and was going to address his alcohol abuse and his abusive tendencies.
For about 5 minutes, he acknowledged that he was to blame. He said, "I am responsible for all of this. The drinking, the way I treat you and the kids. It's my fault." But just as quickly as he took the blame, he shifted it right back away.
He was going to quit drinking. (shyeah, right!) He had weaned himself down to just two beers a day. (in front of me) But, since he was going on vacation back home to the midwest in late June, he was going to "really quit" when he got back.
But he didn't. And his thinly veiled control would slip. I came home from therapy one Tuesday night to him drunk and nasty. He called my 10 year old son a "puss" and told me I was in fact making him said "puss". OMG I was LIVID. He had the mental fortitude to drag his donkey to bed quickly, but he knew the next day he'd crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed.
I took the kids to DC to visit my sister in late July. Of course the minute I left he was hitting it hard. He called me one night completely schnockered and I was pissed. I sent him an e-mail telling him if he didn't check into rehab he had until the weekend to leave. He threatened to shut off all my utilities and to harm my animals.
Of course the next day he'd been "kidding" about that, but I was done. I came home and told him to get the flock out of my life. My house, in my name, no equity, no joined assets, nothing to split. Just get your drunken self out of my life. Through therapy I'd gained strength. There was nothing wrong with me. There was so much wrong with him.
But he wouldn't leave. I couldn't quite figure out the logistics of getting him out of my house. I figured the only way was to file for divorce and be given the house as a temporary residence. He knew I was done, and he was getting desperate.
He had therapy on August 12th. Of course he guzzled a ton of booze after that and the kids and I came home to find him out cold in bed. We just stayed away from him and went on about our evening. Then he woke up. And he was ugly. He was spoiling for a fight, goading me, telling me he was going away for the weekend and taking my dog. Using every nasty trick in his dirtly little book to try to engage me. I tried to extricate myself, because I could see he was escalating. He was fuschia.
I walked away, and he hurled an entire tub of smart balance at me, hitting me squarely in the head. He'd thrown things before, he'd broken things before, I'd threatened him with calling 911 before, but never had. But this time was different. My children were nearby, he'd hurled a stream of just horrible nasty names at me prior to the butter launch. I was done. I ran to the phone and dialed 911.
As I connected with the 911 operator, he charged after me and grabbed me by the throat and neck, pulling me to the floor and pulling the phone handset from the base. I was charged up on adrenalin and fighting back. Thankfully the police were en route. They hauled his donkey away. The bail conditions were 96 hours of no contact.
I got a restraining order the next morning. He broke it that night. He drove drunk, he violated bail and the restraining order and let himself back into the house I thought I'd secured. He came to the room the kids and I were sleeping in. I was scared shitless. I called 911 from my cell phone. He couldn't pull that out of the wall.
He was arrested, spent a week in jail, and now faces numerous charges. I have had no contact, and will continue that. I got my final restraining order on Monday the 15th of September. Now I just need to file for divorce.
I am so happy now. My kids are happy now. Hell, even my dogs are happy now. Onward and upward. I feel strong, whole and healthy now. I hope he gets everything he deserves. He is one broken individual. I am the witness for the prosecution on November 6. I will tell my story to a judge, and hope that the system continues to work as amazingly as it has for me so far.
I walked the dogs today
in the woods behind the house
I walked upon earth, leaves, pine needles
and as I untangled the leashes
and kept the dogs from jumping in the brook
I noticed a little bottle at my feet
Mr. Jim Beam
Your best friend, your lover
so carelessly discarded
And I thought, "Poor Jim, he didn't fare
any better than I did."
And then a little blue bottle
That once contained the vodka
that amplified the nasty abusive man
that you are, that you were, that you always will be
I stepped over those bottles
I toed them gently with my shoe
As one might the decaying corpse of a small animal
They symbolized everything you were to me
Discarded amongst the leaves and dirt
And I left them there as a memorial
to what I endured, and what I crawled out of
and what I will never, ever live with again.
I wonder if those tiny little bottles will survive under
the weight of the impending winter snows
As I survived under the weight of your cruel oppression
I will find out next spring
Your weapon of choice
Well, beside your bile driven words
Full of whatever booze you were
To illicit power
To evoke fear
To silence any voice not your own
I washed all the stains
From all the broken glasses
Against walls, liquor splattered
Like a crime scene.
I wiped them away
As I've wiped you away
I smiled at the clean wall
Soon there will no traces
Of you ever having been here at all
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