All in my Head Natalie Scheper, 18 Austin, MN

It's hard not to wonder if all the things that ripped control from my hands would come back to tell me they shattered all I had.
Enough for people to invite themselves on my property to look for gold.
My voice shut off whenever I would dare open my lips to scream for help.

My decision no longer mine to decide,
instead, I'm a walking robot here to serve anyone who dares tell me my body is mine to give and take to whom I am comfortable with and those who earn my consent.
The same hands that touched me,
the same hands that swept my tears from my burning cheeks,
only to not tell, but show, I am NOT in control of my body.
To the cop that didn't stuff my feelings into a trash can,
I will forever pretend you read this poem to understand the crashing moment of giving up to the moment I realized I was safe,
"I believe you."
It felt as though someone finally didn't shut off my feelings and throw them into a fiery dumpster, or my hair.
It's hard not to wonder if I'll wake up cold and nervous, almost like being watched from the thoughts that take over my whole body sending me panic attacks like gifts and blood like I'm dying.
Please be patient with what is not yet healed,
and accept what cannot be changed.