(TW: SA, Police, Thoughts of self-ending, usage of the explitive F->!uck/fucking !<, extreme anger towards perpetrators and victim blamers.)
Survivorship isn't something I chose
I'll tell you here, my story, in a poem called a prose
Survivorship isn't something I chose
It's a pain that you feel deep down right in your toes
Survivorship isn't something you choose
Because you're playing a game and each time you fucking lose
Survivorship isn't something I want
Cause I tell you the only thing I really want
I really want to be deep down
Or living in an urn
Or in my skin I paint my pain so I can get rid of the burn
It isn't something you want
To lose your own rights
The most intimate part of any single life
To have to talk to police
For the umpteenth time
To have to tell them about your body
To say it's no longer mine
To get ready for the courts
To tell the jury that they're guilty
Without even being sure that it's going to do anything
It makes you cry not-on-command
It makes you hit it makes you scream
It makes you cry and sob and heave
It taints fucking everything
It pulls you from your dreams and puts you right back there
In that room, that fucking tomb, back there again
Survivorship isn't something that I chose
And if you think it is, then take a rope to your throat. (This line is aimed at victim blamers, for them to shut up, because we didn't choose survivorship.)