Violated

You wrenched humans who prey on others’ lives while guarding your own boundaries, as if mine don’t exist too. You who cross the boundaries of respect as if you're not human yourselves, those who mock while reading my soul. I made a promise to myself to never share my diaries with anyone. You took them not just from the page, but from the heart they came from. This felony you show, human—when you hide your privacy, I back away too, to respect your life. So why did you hold my naked pieces so tightly, as if to rape my soul was your right?

Do you not have eyes to see how hard it was on me?
I have rage too, dear humans.
But closeness kept me from unleashing it upon you.
I may be someone who hates conflict
but you changed me that night.

This open book will now have iron-locked doors,
whose keys will be hidden far, far away.
Some parts of the soul are not meant to be read,
not even by those we once called close.

I do not hate you for what you did.
Part of the fault lies with me too,
for leaving myself bare
in a room filled with vulture eyes.

It just feels violated.
It feels hurt.

And don’t you dare say sorry, human.
That time can never be undone.

I may deeply regret saying all this.
But for once,
I don’t want to care about the consequences.
A.V