The Cost of Innocence

...and I feel as if someone owes me.
Who? I'm not quite sure.
But somewhere along the line
someone broke something inside of me
and they should have to pay for that.
You break it, you buy it right?
So what exactly is
the price of a young girl's innocence
or the cost of a broken heart?
It would be impossible for me to
add up all the tear filled nights
and moments of inadequacy
and I don't think I could face the pain
of trying to calculate the cost of
years of confusion and self-hatred.
Drinking...
Smoking...
Cutting...
Fucking...
All to ease the pain of being a victim
Wishing I could take control of my own life
but I stopped being in control
when he said yes
and I said no.
"Whore..."
"Slut..."
"Too fast..."
"Too grown..."
What is the price of realizing that
your own family hates you but loves you
at the same time?
The price of knowing that they wish
they didn't have to look at you
because then they could forget about your shame.
Yes, YOUR shame
because it's all your fault.
Who are you to talk about the family's business?
Who are you to accuse a family friend of rape?
Who are you to hurt...to feel...to die inside?
I was just a child.
A scared, confused child.
A broken child.
Wishing that someone could explain to me
the things that I was far too young to understand.
Begging someone to explain to me
why my family wouldn't come to my rescue
at a time I needed them the most.
Pleading with someone to make me understand
why I felt so dirty and ashamed and disgraced
when I didn't do anything wrong.
Yes, someone owes me.
But who?
Is it him?
Is it them?
Or could it be that I simply owe myself?