A girl lies naked, bruised and bleeding on the bathroom floor. She’ll say she was ***** but it’ll be her who’ll take the fall. The football team will still play that Friday night and she’ll be accused of telling hysterical lies.
“She was breaking the dress code” you were breaking the law, violation of the law gets you a court sentence but rich parents get you good lawyers who get you off free, she’ll never be free to walk the streets home alone fearing that every time she looks into a man’s eyes she will see the image of you as she prayed for help but was instead preyed on by the Prom King Predator.

Her bruises whether they be physical or not are hers to reveal and if you feel the need to go around telling her story then you’re an ***, “she had a sweet ***” you had sweet talk which made her feel safe and then suddenly she felt betrayed. So she’s a ***** if she sleeps with a guy even if it wasn’t consensual but when you sleep with a girl you’re a playa and did a good job on hitting that; you going to bang her? ***** her? Nail her?

The words used to describe it are almost as violent as the act done upon her.

There was pain in her voice but her body betrayed her, it portrayed pleasure when all she felt was agony. The pain in her voice was clear to those around her but the pleasure was all they focused on, the pleasure is what caused her the feeling of being ashamed for the next four years until she could open up to someone.

Around school she was known as the quiet girl, the girl without a story, this was true in a sense because her story like most was never told.

My name is Nikita
I am 19

I was 6
when he ***** me
my sister was 3

I was 7
when I realized I'm human

I was 10
when he killed my dog in front of me

I was 12
when he played strip poker with me

I was 13
when he attempted suicide

3pm, in the next room

I was 14
when I leaned out the ledge of a bridge

Fast forward to 19

I'm alive
I'm safe
I'm strong

my body still aches.
when my mother hugs me
i tremble.

i don't like being touched anymore.
it reminds me of your hands
like spiders crawling
under my clothes.

i was so small
and you were so much bigger.
get your voice out of my ears.
saying
'Let it happen.'

in seven years, all the cells in a body
are replaced
which means
in six years there will be no part of me
that you ever touched.

i am counting the days
until then.

It's difficult to be pretty in this world
Because when you're pretty
You get *****
Because men don't know how to control themselves
Because when you're a man
You don't have to
Men are commended
For impregnating women
And being masculine rapists
Women are shamed
For getting pregnant
And being *****
Women were asking for it
Women should have known better
Women are supposed to be prepared
Nobody tells men not to ****
We hope it's common sense
But then we don't reprimand them
Because boys will be boys
But why can't boys be nice boys
And keep their hands to themselves
Stop hurting young women
Who really don't want to be *****
I don't know why
Men keep ****** women
It isn't fun
Nobody is asking for it
The definition of ****
Is *** that isn't asked for
But guys do it anyway
Because women are too afraid
To speak up
To live in this world
Ruled by ****** men

I married a **** survivor
She was terrified and broken
Shaken till the last drop of blood
She can’t even face the mirror now
Now she hates herself for being a girl
Just few seconds had stolen her identity
Her respect, Her pride, Her value, Her existence
Corner of a room was now her place
Tears dried heart soaked smile disappeared
Yes i married a **** survivor!

Believing i could give back her effeminacy
I hold her hands when no one wanted her
Society expelled her,Why? Because she lost virginity
Because she lost her dignity
Because someone forced her played her
Because someone snatched her feminess
I don’t care, i love her and i promise to take care of her
I will bring back her pride her attitude her smile
Hoping i could take her to my world of peace
Yes i married a **** survivor!

I can’t touch her i can’t make her feel comfortable
Suddenly at night she wakes up and cry
That night still haunts her
My beautiful bud was plucked
Crushed and trampled her soul was tampered
I gave her home my family my love
Yet she resists inside of her, still her voice trembles
Still the cruel eyes of world poaches her
Still the comments of anyone shatters her
She tried a lot to move on but that cruel laugh torments her
But now she had her peace for she had hanged herself.

He can’t stand to love,
Yet he can’t stand to hate,
Afraid of exposure,
Its vulnerable weight.
So he builds up his walls,
To protect him from feeling,
Covering old wounds,
Which keeps them from healing.
And she sees he’s guarded,
Yet tries to unveil
The past he is hiding,
His secrets to tell,
Hating his walls,
But she can’t tear them down.
Wherever she is,
He just builds them around.