We figure that if no one protects us, then we must not be worth protecting,
so we become prey and are easily picked off.
Our hurt gazes attract sly predators and we sell ourselves for clearance-sale prices, mistaking screwing for caring.
We do anything to blot out the past.
We have babies because we want them to love us, to make us important,
but they only make us tired and fat and stinking of spit because they're babies, not saviors.
The fathers leave us, sick of sweatpants and tears.
But the babies still need all of us, but there isn't anything left to give because we based our worth on the lowlifes who knocked us up and around.
We don't see what we should see because having anyone is supposedly better than being alone.
I know the grim possibility of my own future.
The odds are high that the best of me has already been ripped away and if I don't keep hold of myself I will loose what's left.
I don't want to hurt anymore.
I want to be someone who makes it through.
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