His Masterpiece

God,
My mother used to tell me that I was your prized possesion, your work of art, your masterpiece.
She would tell me that because I am so special you watch me constantly, making sure nothing happens to me.
I guess she was wrong.
You must have turned your head when he hurt me.
Your eyes must have quickly glanced away,
d
    i
          s
              t
                  r
                        a
                              c
                                    t
                                          e
                                                d.
Those few moments when your view was blurred,
I was brutally murdered.
On the inside at least.
He killed me inside, you know?
I don't think I'll ever be the same.
Knowing how he violated me,
how he broke through all the boundaries.
HE BROKE THE RULES.
He made me afraid of the dark.
Why didn't you watch you masterpiece every waking moment?
God,
If you can't watch your masterpiece well enough,
watch your doodles.
Keep an eye on those you didn't plan out so carefully.
Make sure that you watch the picture that destroyed your masterpiece.