I do not dare to remember.
Dreams are hurtful enough,
and the truth hurts even more.
The frantic, dark, nervous feeling,
that I do not dare to experience.
It is wrong.
He was completely on me.
Pushing me down.
Did I struggle?
Was I even awake?
Was I drugged?
Who was he anyway?
I seemed to come out of my body,
hovering above the horrible scene.
I didn’t even dare to look at myself.
I feel dirty,
feeled with shame.
I scrub myself with the soap sponge over and over again,
trying to rub myself clean.
Whether it happened or not,
I am somehow insecure and violated.
I do not dare think about the truth.