Why I Survive

Red cup sweating in my hand Music too loud to understand He said "relax" like it was fine I said "no" — did he even hear it that time Room was spinning, walls too close Then the night just... goes Woke up on a stranger's floor Don't remember how I got there or the door Counted all the ceiling cracks Trying to find the hours I can't get back Nobody told me consent has a curfew Nobody told me "no" runs out at two I keep asking why, why, why Was it something that I wore or drank or tried Stop — that question isn't mine to carry I didn't do this, so why do I feel sorry Why — I get to ask that now and mean it different Why did he think my body was his to rewrite Why — I'm done apologizing for existing This is the year I take my "why" and turn it into fight Why, why, why Told my mother, told the police, told a friend Some believed me, some just wanted it to end But I'm not asking permission to heal This is mine now — the story and the wheel I keep asking why, why, why Now I'm asking loud instead of asking why I lied Stop — I already know the answer He's the question mark, I'm not the cancer Why — I get to ask that now and mean it different Why did he think my body was his to rewrite Why — I'm done apologizing for existing This is the year I take my "why" and turn it into fight Why, why, why ("You don't get my whole life for one night. You don't get to live rent-free in my "why." I'm still here. I'm still mine.") Why — I get to ask that now and mean it different Why did he think my body was his to rewrite Why — I'm done apologizing for existing This is the year I take my "why" and turn it into fight I'm asking why, and I survive I'm asking why, and I'm alive Why I'm still here Why I'm still mine