yah know ..

i had enough of me being shredded, stifled, torn & worn.
it’s time.

to protect, build, bind & strengthen.


kpm©

a child prostitute

How is that even a thing,

I wonder.

As I watch them come and go.

I see their ‘baby on board’ stickers

In their rear windows.

And who do they pick up?

You look no more than eleven.

Are you eleven,

or younger?

I feel disgust for those leeches.

Those scum infested bastards.

But you leave with them,

And return in 10 minutes.

How is it that you have to be here?

Why do you go with them?

Yes I know the answer.

But all the answer does not lie with you.

They said on the News;

“What should we be doing about the child prostitution issue”.

It’s an issue?

No,

it’s a fucking abomination!

A shame on this nation!

A child,

a prostitute.

Your ‘clients’ are rapist pigs.

They are not clients.

Your job is not a job.

It isn’t a well thought out career pathway.

It’s cunty pedos cashing in on your silence.

Your need.

Your vulnerability.

I hate them for you!!

I told you so,

When you wouldn’t come with me.

I told you so,

As you huffed your poison and rolled your little eyes.

I told you I would hate them for you,

And I do!

I’ll fix it if it takes me forever

I’ll fix it.

So you can braid your hair

And get your nails did

So you can eat your lunch at school

And you can sleep between Dora Explorer sheets.

I’ll fix it

I’ll keep hating them

Until I fix it.


kpm ©


 

Image

when.did.i

start to hate.

my skin.

my hair.

my speech.

my walk.

my movements.

my legs.

my arms

when.did.i.

start to hate.

me.


kpm © : ig @kpm-artist


 

SaveSave

not this time

im not listening

im not listening

im not listening

I could hold my hands

over my ears

close my eyes

and disappear

but not this time.

.

.

words, yours, theirs.

used to hurt.

into a tiny ball id go

as my insides

caved on in

and the light

receded.

into the ball id go.

as tears dribbled

and snot escaped

shaking took hold

why me, why, why me

but not this time.

.

.

this time is different.

.

red, I see.

stronger, fiercer, I be.

you may say what you think

do what you like

it make no

differential

to me

.

.

I been

bit

hit

chewed

spat

rolled

stuck

flicked

licked

scraped

stabbed

scratched

roped

poked

peeled

and flayed.

.

.

and im still here

bitch.


kpm©


 

Hey Caryn Or Karyn Or Whatever Your Name Is

Do you remember me?
Well I remember you
I remember your prying
Invasive fingers
And your trying to look innocent
I remember the nod you would give
As I played on the jungle gym
And I remember your
Let’s keep this our
Dirty little secret look
Did you know I already had one?
Way way bigger than this one?
Did you realise your invasion
Wasn’t the first
And was by no means
The last?
Well I grew up
And I’ve carried the guilt
And shame of you
For far to fucken long
I get now
That you were probably being
Fucked at home
Or somewhere else
And that your little soul
Was probably as tormented
As mine
The empathetic part of me
Feels for the fucked up part of you
But I hated you for invading me
For guilting me
And tormenting me
And while I wish you
No direct harm
I wouldn’t shed a tear
If learned you had
Had your prying little fucking fingers
Severed, the fuck off.


kpm ©