What`s wrong with me is what`s ill in you. <br />You forced my hand and degraded my view. <br />And with a blade, you`ve placed me here, <br />Substituted my innocence with unending fear. <br />You`ve stripped out the filter over my eyes. <br />Now I can see how virtue and purity dies. <br />And with your touch, I squirm within. <br />Frozen, I wait as the mortifying begins. <br />You may have my body but never my love. <br />While my consciousness escapes, it hovers above. <br />You penetrate through all that I hold dear, <br />The contrast between good and bad are unclear. <br />The evil in you threatens to infect me. <br />It spills over me much like a disease. <br />But when this is over if I`m still alive, <br />That will mean that through hell, I survived.<br /><br />Brandi Guthrie<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/surviving-11/
