I remember the time when nightmares used to be monsters not people,
when I feared the creatures in the dark, not the ones hiding in plain sight.
Snarling teeth and sharp claws sent shivers down my spine,
now it’s unhinged smirks and wandering hands that make me uptight.
No is no longer a demand but a suggestion and they preach that my best bet is to cover up as prevention.
Chances are they will be let off for their transgression,
so I know there is no such thing as redemption.
Now it is no longer a matter of life or death but a bitter memory I try to suppress,
until it becomes a scar I’m too scared to address.
Instead I would rather digress and silently fight my mental distress.
Then it becomes just another secret that I possess.
Something I will never confess, because it’s safer to just repress the memory and shame.
Especially when all they do is victim blame and I know no one would ever look at me the same.
So now he is just a name I can never erase, and a face I will never displace.
I try to find a way to go on knowing that he is out there living someplace.
Meanwhile my world has become tainted and my sleep is contaminated
With dreams of being manipulated, and the ways in which I was adulterated.
Fighting is no longer for my life but for my sanity,
and fighting for the right to have control over my entity.
All the while wishing for serenity.
Words by Amber Wurst