A poem of my internal dialogue:

You, I once considered a brother.

We sweat, cried, and laughed together.

Imagine my pain when you just stood by,

and defended the man who groomed so sly.

Fine. That was expected, I guess.

Manipulators have their way of looking the best.

Casting me as the crazy one for who I became,

Until now that I have the strength to speak for my name.

You see, I did go crazy. I felt insane.

How many years did I just cause of pain?

I lied to myself to preserve the “plan”,

But as I grew up… I saw him as a sick man.

How do I undo years of this damage?

I just couldn’t believe that he was taking advantage.

I should’ve thrown that ring when he bought it in 2017,

But I was holding onto this premeditated dream…

A dream that was mine?

I thought so for some time.

There’s no fooling me anymore, though.

He should have served for his crimes.

Five years of my life I was in his bed,

While his side chicks clearly never left his head.

He fed me drugs and alcohol and I lost myself, my friends, family, and my health.

He stole a lot from me, but taught me more.

Now I recognize someone like him standing at my door.

I left him at 20, but not soon enough.

I’ve been sober since then,

Although most people don’t give a f…

Well I f*cking do. And I’m proud of myself.

I’ve grown, I’ve changed, and I’m working on my health.

Not just for me, but for my son,

Who gives me the strength every single day

that he thought he won.

I was not the first. That is a fact.

But I pray to God that I am the last.

Because the guilt as a mother that I feel

causes me to lie awake, knowing he conceals.

I risk deformation, though I don’t say his name.

I simply wish other people to know the same.

I love my son with all that I have,

and thus, my heart is no longer dead.

One day his deserved karma will come…

Just not in the way that he always said.