Exist.

My voice was stolen from me along time ago.

It was riped from my throat and thrown away in a dark hole.

Stolen by those who called me hurtful 

Digging scars into my flesh that went deeper then the human eyes could see.

I couldn't tell anyone how much it hurt

How much my heart was bleeding

My soul was aching

I couldn't command my lips to speak the words i desperately needed them to say

To beg anyone to save me from my torturers

So I accepted the pain

Allowed the nothingness and hollowness to engulf me..

I accepted the death that was undoubtfully in my future...

I began to write..small things notes..memos..

The voice that i had been missing for so long began to speak..

Not with my lips..with the words i could write on the page

Slowly all the things i was uncapable of saying were said

All my emotions I had pushed aside were poured out

My suffering no longer become silent

I was no longer a victim

I write because without it...

My voice does not..

Exist.