Do I exist just so you can fill me with all the things you hate?
Like a black disgusting mess inside my soul.
I put on a brave face so you can’t see my pain,
Passive, unchanging, smiling but afraid.
I’ll try and hold back my despair so it doesn’t spill out,
My words filtered, delicately chosen.
I’m on a leash that I’m too afraid to tug at,
Even when you push me too far.
And I’m powerless,
Useless.
I remember that time you put your hand round my neck,
And slammed my head against the wall again and again.
Afterwards you locked me in the darkness,
With nothing but myself for company.
You make me feel used, dirty, unclean,
And when you’re inside me I just feel empty.
My name is Henry.
I am a hoover.
This is my pain.