Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jun 2017 Crystal Goddess
Ellie
Was I *****?
Maybe I wanted it?
That intoxicated girl,
She must have said yes.
But that girl was me.
I did not say yes.

Was I *****?
only a vague memory of the night
But the morning, a vivid reality.
Waking up naked in my bed,
To a strange man walking out my door.
Thanking me for sleeping with him.
But I did not say yes.

Was I *****?
He seemed like a nice guy.
Maybe I fell on the walk home.
That's why there was blood and bruises,
On the most intimate parts of my body.
He did take me back to my room.
But I did not say yes.

Was I *****?
The memories will forever haunt me.
But months of hell and healing,
Have led me to realize:
I did not say yes.

I was *****.
I look in the mirror
And all I can see
Is a little lost girl
Staring at me

I reach her hand
But she starts to fade
I can't undo all these
Mistakes I have made

I was innocent once
I can still hear her voice
The way she cried stop
But she had no choice
fear
agony
humiliation
pain
pain
pain
pain
pain
pain
silence
How does someone dare to **** someone else.
How do you bear to look at someone and think,
"I want her even if she won't let me."
I mean, that's what must be going through the ******'s mind, right?
How dare you take away a girl's future?
How dare you?
How dare  you take away her first relationship, or kiss, or even her virginity?
How do you live with yourself?
It's just sick.
This has been bothering me for a while especially after I found out that my mom's friend's daughter go ***** a few months back and yesterday, I ran into this ****** pervert and I was really creeped out. I mean, he didn't touch me or anything but he kept whistling and making kissing noises at me. No one deserves to get *****, really. I think the ****** is just sick and disgusting. Anyways. sorry for not being active! Since exams are over, the school decides to throw all these leadership responsibilities on my shoulders and I've been really busy.
I wield my words viciously

Like a knife

I slash at her

As I **** her

Hold her down and penetrate her

Blood showers from my blade

As I overwhelm her

But slowly my ravishes

****** after ******

Turn into love

And I wonder

What have I done?
Written after a rather vicious fight with my love. I could see the pain that my words were inflicting as I spoke them. Afterwards , I wished I never had.
Did you hear the that goes
“Everytime I try to make a **** joke,
It just comes out a little too…
Forced.”

Did you hear the one about
The girl who had to pull her
Best friend
Drunk, crying, and vomiting,
From her best friend’s car?

They’re both pretty funny,
Aren’t they?

It’s hilarious that
A 15 year old girl
Sits in a clinic,
Waiting to see
If she is pregnant
Or if maybe she has
An STD.
She feels ***** and
Ashamed,
Feeling like it’s her fault
Because that’s what
Society tells her-
It’s her fault because
Of what she was wearing.

It’s even more funny that
She sits there alone,
Because she’s too
Ashamed to ask for help.

It’s hilarious that a
Little boy,
With tears streaming down his face,
Thinks that what she did to him
Wasn’t ****,
Because society tells him
That real men can’t be *****,
He should’ve liked it,
That he’s lucky because
She was good looking.

It’s hilarious that when you make **** jokes,
You’re almost as bad as the ******.

You’re normalizing his actions,
Making him feel proud,
And that what he did
Is just a process of life,
That what he did is normal.

So instead of asking me why I don’t find **** jokes funny,
Let me ask you
Why you do.
I read this at the gala too wow my words in people's minds yay
****
Bitter tears of pain,
this anguish of my broken soul.
Burning skin with scratches,
pride that will never be whole.
This unending nightmare
of being surrounded by wolves.
Devouring my flesh and innocence,
piece by piece, part by part.
Execrable faces changing like street lights,
lecherous with sarcastic grin, oozing with saliva.
That invidious stench of animalism,
penetrating every pore.
Noxious vandalism breaking every
fiber and destroying the very core.
Thrown on streets, like a soiled cloth,
smeared with ***** and blood.
Unconscious, unclothed, shattered
with unending seizures and spasms.
Wounds heals but scars remains,
And whenever I will touch them
I will relieve the pain.
This question of being woman,
I’ll ask again and again and again.
They say hang’em, but it will
Only be freedom from there hellish mind.
Why not let them be among thousand men
Who **** them, again and again.
Sometimes we have to speak
The language they understand.

bold(Poem dedicated to the victim of **** in Delhi.)**bold
It should be a simple question.

No matter the technicalities,
it doesn't count if it was against your will.
I wish someone had told me that in high school.
Day 1: I want to tear my skin off. My heart is beating so fast i can barley breathe. I feel so filthy.
Day 2: I can't believe this. I don't want to be here. Why did this happen? Why did I let this happen?
Day 5: I guess I drank too much and my friends were to drunk to stop me.
Day 10: I can't face my friends, I can't live my life.
Week 3: No one knows. He hasn't said a word.
Week 6: It happened again, I was sleeping and he did it again. Why did I stay the night? Why didn't I go straight home?
Week 7: He left and kissed me goodbye. I don't know how to feel.
Week 10: My life's out of control, I can't believe whats happening.
Month 5: My boyfriend knows. But not all details. Just thinking about it, makes me want to take a shower.
Month 8: I finally came clean to my friends. They're appalled. They hate him now. I still feel filthy. I can't get his smell off my body still.
Month 11: The anniversary is soon. What am I going to do?
Year 1: I haven't spoken to him in months. I haven't thought about it in days. I still feel as if hes on top of me, why can't I wash him away?

Its an uphill battle with myself and others. Some days I can't get out of bed or even feel like breathing.
But I try not to let him get to me. Because if he sees my weakness from what hes done,
He's won.
Next page