To My Assailant

You are perpetual restraints,
you're sick and scum and I'm raw and lonely.
I'll always be -
a vic -
survivor -
a girl.
Didn't face you on the stand,
let the scar settle in.
Lucky as hell but I'm still
losing grip - slip,
feeling sick and I'm tumbling
at knifepoint again.

Pleasure and pain
exploited for the love of a name
riding through cement tunnels
on a subway train
she preaches in Jesus' name -
what ever happened to not using the name in vain? -
She's a liar -
not a hero, a sinner
with scars and judgements
of Holy or Heretic -
does being a fucked up metro rider get you to heaven?
I wouldn't know,
I'm still just chilling in limbo.
Couldn't say if she's wrong or right
all I know is
Jesus wasn't loving me when you were making me love you
and if Jesus saves then where the fuck was saving me that night.