Moving Forward

The essence of who I am is like a cup.

The night I was raped, 

he drank from my cup until his thirst was quenched

and I was left with a glass.

Trying to figure out who I am,

I have been filling it with all the wrong materials.
I don't hold anger in my heart, just pity.
I don't hold sadness in my mind, just relief.
I am finally ready to move on.
I am finally ready to forgive.