The pews, the steeple, the pedestals my mother's family washes the feet of,
they did not save me as I was promised they would.
What about the secrets that were shared among a group of girls,
of fifteen year old girls who are still learning how harsh the world is
but have pretty much gotten the idea and don't want to lose hope.
What about the girl I sat next to
who admitted she was forced into a blowjob
and then the whole school called her a whore?
Where were your thoughts and prayers then?
When you were sweeping things under the rug,
you missed a spot.
You missed a spot because I took pictures and gave them to his family.
I wasn't going to be your good girl under the Lord,
I'm not gonna stand for being a housewife or your incubator
for your poisoned fucking bloodline.
And those kids never learned to handle their demons
because apparently an exorcism and some prayer will cure it all.
It's the reason why according to the rest of the world
I'm another statistic, another underlying stereotype nobody will address
but that's not the case. I'm a human being
with eyes that have been freshly opened
and a booming voice demanding to be heard,
and I promise to never ask for forgiveness of my sins on a silver platter
despite my words in the cabin stairwell when a counselor was with us
absolutely fucking nothing of mine
is yours for the taking.