Weak

Powerless, waking in a pool of despair.
Not knowing what to do to undo the tragedy
that happened to you.
This horrible act of violence which you
had to endure. After such long time of
conscious intoxication, getting worse
by letting go. Needing that door to mental
escape. Victims never asked for pain.
Why must things be this way?
Contemplating the things to take revenge,
to make the violator pay for his acts but nothing
possible comes to surface.
Brooding for days while my heart bleeds
with yours. Hoping you'll get by and pick
up your life. Praying that
it'll be beautiful for the rest of it.

(Dedicated to Britt)