“final draft” | a poem

Written by a former VCUG patient.

"final draft"

They ask me what I need

and I say I don’t know.

What do you need from someone

who ruined you decades ago?

There’s nothing on the internet

no psych study or report

that says what to tell a loved one

who caused a lifetime of hurt.

Abusers never change, they say;

Beware ones who claim they have.

So why can’t I reconcile this You

with the remorseless ghost of my past?

The crossroads of our life

isn’t about the path less travelled.

It’s preferring to die rather than confront

knotted decades to be unraveled.

They ask me what I need;

I tell them I don’t know.

How does one rewrite a narrative

written for them many years ago?

Morbid curiosity about who I could have been

consumes my every thought

Do you also wonder who I’d be today

If the adults who hurt me had not?

Would I speak my mind more often

and smile at others on the street

instead of staring down at cement

praying no one notices me?

Would I feel included in conversation

without gravity dragging me down

without trauma dictating my every move

Flinching at unexpected sounds?

Would I sleep soundly through the night

no intrusive thoughts barging in without warning

without wanting to peel skin from bone

feeling powerless till morning?

If I asked you nicely,

would you kindly return my pen

So I can rewrite myself in my story;

reverse my premature end?

Or would you hold the narrative overhead;

ensure your side is all that’s said?

Tell me, will you ever come to regret

Watching me cling to my life

like the last fraying thread?

and when those quivering strings

begin to pop,

promise me you’ll remember her—

the little girl

that you forgot.