when he pries open
your legs, like a burglar
pries open a locked door,
do not fight him.
If you are in this position,
it is your own fault that
you have left yourself
When you come clean about it
in an outcry, you will be dissected
like a frog on the autopsy table,
your words will be cut open
and taken apart. Go ahead and
cry but do not cry
They will examine your outfit, determine
the amount of exposed skin you flaunted,
and the level of alcohol in your blood
as though these are adequate triggers
for a man’s need for power,
for dominance, for the way
he treated your body as a playground
instead of sacred ground.
Every poet will tell you
they are tired of hearing rape poems,
and I get it, I do.
I am tired
1 Recent Comments
Would you like to comment?Join ink-circus.net for a free account, or Login if you are already a member.