I was watching an episode of Numb3rs where rape was referred to as "soul murder." 

"Do you think my soul was murdered?"  the victim asked.
"No," replied Meghan.  "I think you were hurt.  I don't think you can help yourself anymore than you could take a bullet out of your body."

That show combined the scariest thought with the greatest answer possible.  When I was 21, I was raped.  It's not an injury like a scrape or a bruise... one that heals and doesn't come back.  It's even more than a deep cut that leaves a scar.  It's more like an injury of a torn tendon or cartilage, or a slipped disk, or injured nerve, etc.  It causes pain when the weather changes.  It might hurt when you strain that spot.  Some are less lucky because they develop arthritis - an almost constant, swollen ache that won't heal. 

I seem to be in between - a few steps toward healing... then fall backward and re-injure myself.  My soul is very much alive - always has been.  I do think I hid it in a dark room for a while... I think I felt like someone attempted to murder my soul... took a shot at it.  If I could mentally conjure the image of rape as a bullet inside me, it might be easier to get rid of.  Some therapists feel imagery is a great way to work through things.  

I woke up one day to find I'm 28...
but lately I've been acting more like 19...
or maybe as old as 22.

I've found an error in my programming.

I don't like who I'm becoming.

I've lost my grove
...fallen away from my means
... turning to waste. 

I woke up on my birthday
to find I'm twenty-eight.
I won't let it be too late
to change my presentation...

to re-affiliate.