Hysterical Woman

With slender proof,

I share my tale-

trying to convince them

it was ever real.

I lived those moments:

anxiety,

confusion,

fear.

But there's no record.

No witnesses,

No videos,

No reports.

Now I collect scraps-

receipts,

screenshots,

timelines,

fucking everything

to justify my pleas.

To unmask

the serpent under't.

Still,

it's not enough.

I'm just another

Hysterical Woman,

screaming into the void,

tears like rivers,

ignored by the law.

By definition,

it was abuse.

By design,

I was bound

silenced,

diminished.

One day,

I hope someone listens.

Sees my fear.

Feels my truth.

And actually fucking cares.