Image by JuiMagicman from Pixabay

My blood shot eyes were drooping by then, exhausted by the number of tears they had shed,
Inhaling the scent of that wooden square, I was standing on, as a witness,
I swaddled myself in a blanket, and held onto it for my dear life,
Hiding my memories, the ones I was given without any sort of plea,
Oozing slits, purple bruises, somewhere dead cells accumulated, the other where crying to be mended,
My hands were quivering, lips were trembling, seeing my predator being walked into the room;
He who's arm once used to be around my neck, us giggling and taking steps towards our class,
He who is now full grown, and has porn sites pinned in his roaster,
He who now desires to experience what he has watched, regardless of any accord,
He who dragged me by my hair, enough to bore holes in my scalp, and locked me up in the basement, detaching his leather belt from its hook,
He who dodged my untiring pleads, and went onto rip off my clothes,
He who slapped me countless times, and growled at me to be quite and docile,
He who belted me, whacked me, skinned me alive and until the core, but still didn't halt,
Had fad glistening in his eyes, the craze any girl would ever want to exist,
The fad to prove his masculinity by pounding into me
The fad to click his tongue and rant to his friends, about how good it was to fuck someone,
The fad to be a cool man with his manhood already sucked,
The fad to be another piece of toxic masculinity in this crowd of million such others,
He who looked down at me, my naked self while zipping up his pants , said ''You are indeed very sweet.''
I was left there, left with torn clothes splayed across the room,
Left with my blood, drenching the floor,
Left with a lacerated heart and reeked of disgust and was now finally a validated whore.
Probably the one I would eagerly share my tiffin with is long gone,
What now resides in him is a watcher of unceasing reels of porns
And those nurtured him into a man, who is declared a rapist, by the law.

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