Response

I do not want to respond.
Fingers rake my hair,
Twist it and pull,
I do not want to respond.
Skin dragged off my bones,
My flesh kneaded like dough,
I do not want to respond.
My legs pushed into a curl,
Take all the love I never gave as a girl,
I do not want to respond.
An end result of confusion,
A pretty bundle of pain disguised as joy,
It's too late to want to respond now.