art, Bipolar, bipolar disorder, creative writing, depression, Feminism, Human Rights, mania, Mental Health, mental illness, Poème, Poemas, Poems, Poesia, Poetry, ptsd, Rape, sexual assault, Sexual Violence, Uncategorized

I don’t let myself think of my devastating rainstorm anymore

Once I thought that there would be no end to my eternal pain, suffering anguish.

Torrential rain poured over my vulnerable body exposed without a raincoat.

But then after pouring out my troubles into art, poetry, therapy I took solace in literature and found joy.

After I had cried my tears of despair many times I stopped crying and the pain didn’t feel so overwhelming.

Now I keep myself occupied with a book, a language course, volunteering, time with a friend.

I don’t let myself think of my devastating rainstorm anymore.

Copyright © Electra Rose January 2016

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art, Feminism, Human Rights, Painting, Poème, Poemas, Poems, Poesia, Poetry, ptsd, Rape, sexual assault, Sexual Violence, Uncategorized

You may have ruined a moment but you didn’t ruin my life; I have hope

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art, creative writing, Feminism, Human Rights, Mental Health, mental illness, Poème, Poemas, Poems, Poesia, Poetry, ptsd, Rape, sexual assault, Sexual Violence, Uncategorized

I will show my true colours as a warrior, a fighter, a soldier my whole life

You confidently put me in a position

And I naively watched as you drew closer to me.

Then shock as I felt a combination of pain and pleasure within.

Next disassociation as flight or flight response kicked in.

But then I raised my head and pushed with all my might your violent body away from mine.

Strongly, Powerfully, bravely I triumphed and stopped you from getting your wicked way with me.

Next time when you think you managed to have your four minutes of power over me

Remember you only had one and half or two before I stopped you from succeeding at your violent act.

I showed my true colours as a warrior, a fighter, a soldier at the time.

I will show my true colours as a warrior, a fighter, a soldier my whole life.

I am strong, I am brave, I am courageous.

Copyright © Electra Rose January 2016

 

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art, creative writing, Feminism, Human Rights, Poème, Poemas, Poems, Poesia, Poetry, sexual assault, Sexual Violence, Uncategorized

Sex is violence

My sexual slate is charcoal coloured-
Sex is about power,
Control,
Violence,
Force,
Coercion.
It is darker than the night
And there exists no light
Even from natural pleasure in the body
Copyright © Electra Rose January 2016

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art, creative writing, Feminism, Human Rights, Poème, Poemas, Poems, Poesia, Poetry, Rape, sexual assault, Sexual Violence, Uncategorized

How I long to be that pure rose again

They ripped my rose petals.
Each time I was stuck in a well,
I couldn’t escape.
I couldn’t stop them
And I didn’t stop them from doing the same to others.

Now I long to be that pure rose again
Because my petals were so cruelly corrupted.
They had no right to rob me of my choice,
To rob me of my innocence.

Copyright © Electra Rose January 2016

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art, creative writing, Feminism, Human Rights, Mental Health, mental illness, Poème, Poemas, Poems, Poesia, Poetry, ptsd, Rape, sexual assault, Sexual Violence, Uncategorized

I am no longer trapped in a past world

I haven’t cried for weeks about him.
His violation hasn’t suffocated me, ripped my soul open, killed my heart.
Maybe this is what it means to be over your rapist?
I feel calm, I feel free,
I don’t feel tied to my terrible trauma.
My heart doesn’t feel tied to that cruel man.
I can be me,
I can be the linguist,
I can be the passionate activist,
I can be the loving daughter,
I can be the caring friend.
I’m no longer trapped in a past world
That no longer exists.

I really hope this lasts.
I really hope I am over my rapist
And at least closer to being over my rape.

Copyright © Electra Rose January 2016

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art, creative writing, Human Rights, Mental Health, mental illness, Poème, Poemas, Poems, Poesia, Poetry, ptsd, Rape, sexual assault, Sexual Violence, Uncategorized

He reduced my soul to glass

An angel with broken wings,

A dove without any feathers.

The magpies stole from me most of my diamonds

And now I am left with shards of glass.

Now I am left to find the strong, resilient diamonds deep within my heart-

They reduced my soul to glass.

 
Copyright © Electra Rose January 2016

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