Today, my body became a war zone
on a street that was never meant to be a battlefield.
A hand, uninvited —
like a thief in daylight —
took something sacred
and sped away.
You thought it was nothing.
A joke. A thrill.
But I’m left picking up pieces
you don’t even know you shattered.
My body is not your playground.
My pain is not a punchline.
I am still here —
shaken, but not silenced.
And every word I write
is a way back to myself.
