I Am Expressive

I don't matter again today..
Most days...
Guilt and shame.
My dying eyes keep him away.
Back into my closet..
My box .
Their guilt at a bloody bruised little girl too much for them .
An inconvenience to THEM.
Better not to see her.
Throw IT back in it's box.
I am back to this ..
Sadly trapped.
My dying eyes begging the same..
Love me?
See me?
Let me exist?
Am I real?
Was I real?
I don't matter today.