This Room is Not for Rent

the Greek chorus
has declared me
damaged beyond repair
incapable of
a “normal” life
“better off dead”
say the well-meaning citizens
than “broken”
preferring the image
of the golden haired
innocent child angel
comforted by a merciful God
to a living angry woman
who refuses to be silent
I try not to let
these voices
rent space
in my head
they are destructive tenants
who forfeit their security deposit
scrawl graffiti
in red lipstick on my walls
dirty
shameful
Lolita
guilty
complicit
whore
bitch
I try not
to buy into the vitriol
when they imply
that my life has no meaning
that I am an abomination
a red, raw, bleeding thing
they deem too unseemly
to look upon
unfit for polite society
“Fuck You!”
I want to shout
at the top of my lungs
hands covering my ears
some days
it is hard to find
the armor of my rage
I am just so
god damned tired
of having to prove
that I am worthy
of continued existence
that I deserve to walk
this earth
breathe this oxygen
as if
I am the one
who must continue
to do penance
for other’s sins

© 2017 Revised 2020 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

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