Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2020 · 148
Sad poetry personified
Gunnika Mehra Sep 2020
Slavery, the devil is in me.
Sorrow, heart craves for another tomorrow.
The world won't know what it means.
No one can decipher this being.
The language of this heart, covered with a dark shroud.
Dead, pulled apart, it won't shout.
Thrown down the drain, discarded.
Beaten up, bleeding on the ground.
The red, flowing, cleansing those around.
Serving without dignity.

Bow you all, bow to this being.
Such is the beauty, imaginary.
Existing in the mind, reality can't see.
A face blank, remorse, flee.
A deer bitten by a lion, see.
This is pain, this is what makes me.
Sep 2020 · 91
I wish.
Gunnika Mehra Sep 2020
I wish I were more like you.
With big eyes and a flattering smile.
But that's just a wish for hollow features.
I wish I were more like you.
With the big heart you have.
But that's just a wish for your heart.
I wish I were more like you.
Accepting who I am.
Yet, I wish I were less like me.
Aug 2020 · 939
.
Gunnika Mehra Aug 2020
.
When I looked in the mirror,
I saw an incomplete face.
A human formed so vague,
God forgot to give her a face.
Formed by the last lump of clay,
A human,incomplete in every possible way.
Yet, a chisel given as the last parting gift,
Ready to define my own face.

When I look in the mirror these days,
I see a different face.
Imperfect but proud,
Because I sculpted it.
Aug 2020 · 270
The Guilty Moon
Gunnika Mehra Aug 2020
Staring at the moon,
It looks gloomy.
Tears in its eyes,
Guilt, surrounds it tonight.

It's not full tonight,
Just a quarter is seen.
Clouds hide,
The guilty being.

I look at the stars,
They don't shine like they used to.
The sky,
Represents my mood.

Guilt and tears,
For I know I sinned.
I can feel it,
Flowing within.

The clouds part,
I see the moon.
The guilt is gone,
The clouds helped it bloom.

The stars are bright,
And a smile blossom.
I can let go,
I found the way.

The withering flower
in me blossoms,
And as the moon now shines,
I shine too.

The clouds helped it,
And it helped me too.
The sin and the guilt pass,
I am free at last.
Aug 2020 · 328
The coffee shop
Gunnika Mehra Aug 2020
In an aesthetic coffee shop,
Scribbling away with glee.
Drinking to my imagination,
Is it only me?

In this aesthetic coffee shop,
Where lovers often meet.
I hear fragments
of what their life has been.

Talking over coffee,
They think they are strangers to me.
I observe,I know,
I share their happiness, a witness to their vows.

Sadness and pain,
Sometimes the outcome may be.
But they still come to this coffee shop,
Unknowingly drinking with me.

I am not the only one,
Voila,it's not just me!
There are other artists in this coffee shop,
Observing and scribbling like me.
Aug 2020 · 102
The window
Gunnika Mehra Aug 2020
Writing by the window,
As the sunlight fills my room.
Declaration of an undoubting love,
But these letters, for whom?

Writing by the window,
Staring at the moon.
Poetry on a dozen pages,
Revealing my truth.

Writing by the window,
Coffee keeping me alive.
A book in hand,
And imaginary friends beside.

Writing by the window,
Are my words true?
I will write,
Until I am not by the window anymore.
This poem is about writing by a window, where the window is a metaphor for the world and how i am writing ,while sitting next to the world, instead of being in it.



The last stanza which draws a close to the poem is the most important. It talks about fantasies and how they keep me going and questions the readers whether my writings are based on reality or not. The poem goes on to say that I will write till i am unable to see the world anymore or maybe when i die

For the letters of 'undoubting love' read
Oh great hero, childhood friend of mine and
A broken heart
Aug 2020 · 66
.
Gunnika Mehra Aug 2020
.
Living, under a cover,
Dreams, under their own rubble.

Sleeping, on a pillow of stone,
Existing, wanting to fix nothing no more.
Gunnika Mehra Aug 2020
Who are you?
Why do you my home wreck?
A bond so thin,
Yet you weaken it more.
A heart so broken,
Why break it more?

The dawn of a new day,
Another bird of doom takes flight.
I can't shoot any more down,
My arrows will finish in a while.
Why can't you leave,
Let me rest a while.

Anger and tears,
Don't bring back my long lost fear.
I beg you please go,
Please let them be whole.
And if you won't go,
Snap the bond,
I would rather see them together no more.
Jul 2020 · 248
inside
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
I feel like crying
But not in front of even a single soul.
I don't need people to tell me it's okay,
Instead I want  ‘me’ to make ‘myself’ whole.

I don't want a thousand glares of pity at my tears,
I don't need empty words thrown in the air.
All I need today is a smile,
A flower blooming from inside.
Jul 2020 · 258
The waiting room
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
The air,cold against my skin,
Teeth chittering, hair blowing in the wind.
My throat parched,
Heart stopped beating, I passed.

The other realm,
Warm like spring.
Heart throbbing,
I gulp in mouthfuls of sweet air.

This realm is heaven I guess,
Or just the waiting room to hell.
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
Always talk,
talk to everyone around.
Keep smiling and laughing,
Don't do any thing alone.

That's not who I am,
But it's what everyone likes.
Laughter is not that good a friend,
How can I smile, when inside I am crying?

If you my friend,
Have a knife.
Give it to me,
I need to ****** twice.
One my heart and the other my mind,
Because I can't smile, when I am dying inside.

Once they are gone,
I'll start a new life.
In this one I am talkative,
And more often do I laugh and smile.

Maybe then they will accept me,
Even if that's not who I am.
In trying to change my essence,
They lost a daughter, a friend.

I know at the end,
I will still be alone.
But just existing,
Not living anymore.

My mind and heart gone,
I will be truly alone.
But I hope they will be happy,
Because to please them,
I am not myself anymore.
Jul 2020 · 235
Once more
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
Days pass,
I lay in despair.
But as night takes charge,
I believe God will make repairs.
My life may be hopeless,
Running on cheap cigarette smoke,
But I was once a little smiling  girl,
And I will be her,I will be her,once more.
This poem is a part of a self written story.
You can read the whole story on Instagram on
@_theclumsypoet_
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
Oh great hero
The legend we all look up to
Oh my friend
Now look at you.

I remember when we were kids
How often we played
I recall the memories
The waves have taken away.

Slowly you drifted away
And I did not know
Gradually you vanished
From the place WE called home.

Now home only has me
Waiting for another tomorrow
Home is now a house
Full of sorrow.

I wait for you
Please come visit
I won’t ask you to leave your mansion behind
But just to this poor house bring a smile.
Jul 2020 · 360
A conflict
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
Deep in my heart lies a door,
The key is lost.
And my soul is trapped inside.

Deep in my mind,
Lies a key.
But the heart knows it not.

Maybe if they weren't always in conflict,
They would have freed the soul,
Long ago.
Jul 2020 · 120
The town of my thoughts
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
Living in thoughts,
Words surround.
A happy person here,another there,
What is this town?
Everyone reads and sings with joy,
It's the life I enjoy.
Abruptly it ends,
Reality pulls me back.
Hope I could live there forever,
Unknown to this world.
Begging my thoughts to whisk me away,
To that happy town.
Jul 2020 · 275
The Voice
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
Air hits,
Mind shifts.
A moment of happiness,
Another of pain.
Euphoria,
Gone down the drain.
Blood flows,
So does shame.
Mind deciphering,
The owner's little game.
Her voice,
But there's one more.
She barely speaks,
The other voice guides her actions more.
"Tried fighting the intruder,"
Says the mind.
But the voice is an escape,
From the real being inside.
Into the gallows of shame it leads her,
Her head in the loop of death.
The owner ready to die,
Letting the other take charge.
When the air hits again,
And the voice dies.
It is murdered,
The owner wins.
No other voice,
can take over her being.
The mind deciphers the code,
the owner didn't want it to know.
It said,
"There's a plan, only the secretive heart can know"
The heart, because the voice trying to mislead the owner can control her mind but not her heart. In this poem the voice can be taken as the voice of the devil or someone with a multiple personality disorder.
Jul 2020 · 177
Untitled
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
Words on me,
Adoring my body.
Poetry in my soul,
Lighting up my insides.
Heart fragile,
Taking in the wild emotions.
Head aches with glory,
Trying to write an unwritten story.
Jul 2020 · 183
An over-ambitious flower
Gunnika Mehra Jul 2020
Dancing in the sunshine,
A dream come true.
Up above the world,
Into the blue.
Seeing the heaven,
With eyes its own.
It felt immaculate,a special flower,
A season ago, sown.
It drank the air,
It quenched its soul.

The yellow being,
Slyly smiled.
Pride made way,
Into its whole flowery body.
It laughed at the trees,
Calling them short.
It mocked his siblings,
Telling them how they were just tiny dots.

Days passed,
The airy drink wore off.
The pride now gone,
It realised how vulnerable it was.
The other flowers,
They could cut its feet.

But they were creative,
They let it feel lonely,
And endlessly weep.

It shouted at the sky,
Blamed the sun.
It yearned to be small,
And be back on the earth.
But alas! He had to be punished,
And it stood there tall,
But, in the mind now small.

It waited to dry,
It waited to die.
Jun 2020 · 109
The tree of love
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
The seed is sown,
They stand apart.
The plant grows out,
Hands are held now
The tree rises,
Hearts connect.
The fruits are borne,
The love is sown.

The leaves fall,
Grip loosens.
Trees go barren,
Hearts are frozen.
Brown leaves pile high,
The love seems to die

Tiny leaves make way,
Flies away the doubt.
The tree is full of green,
Hands again entwine.
A tiny plant  sprouts,
Love makes way somehow.

The tree gets old,
Yet the lovers rest assured.
The tiny plant becomes a tree,
A sign of love renewed.
The old tree dies,
But the lovers don't exchange goodbyes.
Jun 2020 · 243
Gone
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Tired and lonely,
Can't bear this heat.
Anger and impatience,
I accept defeat.
Tears and sorrow,
A glimpse of my pain.
Anguish and hatred,
Bow before my name.
I rise, oh I rise,
Well above the game.
You, not you,
No one can take away this pain.
When I sit alone,
In the company of my thoughts.
I feel lost.
Like the breeze,
Now here,now there, now gone.
Jun 2020 · 341
Sun
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Sun
I rest, I rest,
Under the sun.
No way, no way,
It can't burn.
I look up,
It looks down.
The glare, the glare,
I speak out my prayer.
The sun, the sun,
I want to be there.
The grass silky beneath,
As I blindly stare.
Jun 2020 · 99
I envy the sky.
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
I look up,
At the sky.
Envy in my heart.
Everyone sees it,
Captures its beauty.
Even when it's dark,
It is loved.
When it floods the earth,
People forget so fast .
Again they capture its beauty.
Even though its lighting kills,
They like it still.
They look up and smile,
Compare it to everything nice.
And I look up at the sky too,
With pain in my heart.
My mistakes still live,
My past still haunts.
Dear people why can't you forget what I did
Like you forgave the sky.
Jun 2020 · 165
Sour and sweet
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Some times life gives you lemons
Sour , which trouble your sensitive tongue
The sourness goes down the throat
And leaves it's imprint behind.

But what life also teaches us after every lemon
Is that you can always drive it away
Mix the sour with sweet
And it pleases the tongue that way.
So isn't it all about finding the right flavour
Something you can savour.

So next time life gives you lemons
Look for ingredients that will dilute it's pain
And then enjoy the lemon that way.
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Don't some things feel like home ?
Random people and the auras they radiate.
Or just some forgotten memory which resurfaces .

Don't some people leave a mark ?
Like a friend of long ago ,
Or a neighbor just next door.

Aren't some people just like seeds?
Who grow in your mind's garden,
The seeds may not be all good ,
But they give some food for thought.

Aren't some people just so cheery?
That they make you feel good
About whatever you do.

Well but then balance in nature exists?
And to balance all the good
there's some bad.
Just some people who feel like storms,
Ruining everything en route.

Aren't there some people,
Who push you down ,
Whose negativity makes you frown.

But everyone needs a someone
to balance their bad,
Someone who will accept and help them change.
Because beauty lies within all of them ,
Just not yet explored.

Everyone has a story
We don't know of .
And neither do we need to know ,
Some people still need to grow .
And if we are so good
Why are we trying to push them down?
Why don't we help them rise ?
Why can't we all go to paradise?
We don't have to leave anyone behind.
Jun 2020 · 502
Upturned umbrella
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Sometimes I feel like an upturned umbrella,
Serving no purpose in the heavy rains .
Filling up with water,
Like emotions I can't let go of.

I feel bad for myself,
As I see the other umbrellas being embraced.
Why do I lie on the ground,
My insides drenched with pain?
Do I have holes
That I am thrown away?

And then someone picked me up
And I felt an immense joy.
My insides were dried and my holes fixed
And someone held me up again.

That moment realization,
Like lightning struck.
I just needed someone to see the good in me
I needed someone, to be me.

And spreading colours another
Umbrella popped into place.
Saving my saviour,
with my grace.

Finally being what I was meant to be,
As I looked up at the sky.
And the thanked the bright lightning,
For giving meaning to an umbrella's life.
Jun 2020 · 221
Black
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
I am a feline,
With black and shiny fur
Not a bearer of bad luck.
Every time I walk so many turn away ,
God! Why did you make me this way?

History hold examples ,
Of me being good.
Is it because I am not white or brown,
Or any colour you like?
Or maybe I am different,
Something you dislike?

Look through my eyes,
And you will know
How the world I see.
Walk in my shoes,
And when you wear yours again ,
A better person you will be.
The 1st stanza talks about the superstition that a black cat crossing your path is bad. The 2nd stanza deals with racial discrimination. The 3rd stanza connects the first two and asks the people to empathise with them.
Jun 2020 · 109
A broken heart
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
You hurt me but you don't know that you do
Still when I sit alone my thoughts go back to you
Sometimes I think I am crazy
And too lost in the past
But sometimes I blame you
For leaving me behind
Thinking that all you ever did
Was sit with a glue
But never joined the pieces of my broken heart
And when all  of the world went to sleep
I still thought of you
And although you broke me so small
That I can't find me now
And all I see in my soul
Is an urge to see you
A wish that you know what I feel for you
But you live out there in a life so good
Why should I trouble you?
You are usually the hero in stories
But a villain in mine
And I wish for you all that which is not mine
Because you took me away with you
And I will let that part of me enjoy
It will always follow you
And stay quiet in your heart
Somewhere you will never know
Because when you broke me inside
A piece fell on you too.
Gunnika mehra
Jun 2020 · 121
All in good time
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Let's smile and live our lives
Finding joy in bits and pieces every time.
We can all be happy
And smile while there's time
And this one's to all the people
Who thought my happiness died
Happiness does not work over time
Even sadness needs to be defined
If I write something sad
It's not because I am broken inside
I am happy , sad
And a dozen other emotions flow too
I relish all of them
One at a time
I am human
And emotions come alive
For me as words
You can't process
Because your mind seems to be too defined
Let it expand and explore the wild
Search for emotions undefined
Live the emotion one at a time
It will make sense
All in good time
All in good time.
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Deep dark days
The curtains of pain fall
The stage is covered
We don't know what's behind
It's the future
Something we can't determine
Looking up at the sky
Walking for a mile
We are all strangers
Lost in time
Our mind is complex
Full of emotions
we ourselves don't understand
If  we are deserts
Then the dunes are our minds
Constantly shifting
No reason no rhyme
Lost in this strange land
We are all alike
Yet we are different
In how we see life
We are balloons hollow on the inside
The rubber expands as we live our lives
But the question remains
Did we do anything worthwhile?
Jun 2020 · 760
Invisible Humanity
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Dark, black, darker
My own hand disappears
Quiet, quieter,
The the silence pains my ear.
Everything becomes distant
As my skin loses it's colour.
I have become invisible.
Is it because I died
And roam as a transparent ghost .
Or is it a leap of humanity
I don't know!
There's pain searing through my body,
And now it's gone.
Memories come rushing back,
A leap of humanity.
My creation, tried on me.
I am invisible,
And I am alive.
I see all
but nobody knows I am around.
It's loud,
The crowd.
I brush past
And someone calls it breeze.
I am forgotten,
I exist no more.
It pains me because now I cry alone ,
No help received,
Because I am invisible
And so is my pain, my sorrow.
I wish to be seen again.
It's dark,
But it's morning.
I see people live,
Invisibility is no bliss.
I am the result of a failed experiment
Which hoped for a better tomorrow.
My hand, I can use it ,
But can't see how it looks.
It pains, more than I thought it would.
It goes dark again ,
But this time it's loud.
I am in the woods,
Why is there an invisible sound.
And then something brushes past me,
A breeze maybe.
But breezes don't speak.
There he stands, I can feel him
There is somebody,
As invisible as I.
His presence,
I can't deny.
A sound, a squishing of leaves
And he becomes as visible as he can be.
I touch and feel an unknown arm,
And in turn I am felt too.
And there stands,
Another invisible being too.
We connect, without even trying,
Invisible humanity,
Can be defined.
We stand,
At the brink of two worlds.
And this one just has the two of us.
My pain is felt,
I am human again,
but in a different way.
This poem tries to tell how every leap made by science is not for the best of humanity.
Jun 2020 · 198
We wait
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
The world-ended
And all we are in now is a bitter afterlife.
We are dead,
Made to believe we are alive .
Living this life ,
Thinking about another afterlife.
An eternal torture in store,
Making us live our sadness again.
This earth is like a whole planet dedicated to pain,
Or maybe God giving us a chance to reach heaven again.
Sadly all I see of humanity now ,
Are small remains,
Suppressed , the devil reigns.
God, you look from above ,
You see us fall.
Are you punishing us,
By making us think like there's still a way .
Or are we just like the act of humanity,
Small remains.
Forsaken by thee,
Now the devil takes charge.
If this isn't a punishment,
Show us some mercy.
We wait.
We wait.
Gunnika Mehra
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Contradicting a thousand things I said before
I just realized darkness ain't wrong and light not always best
Sometimes we just need to stay in the dark.
To look within ourselves
To fill the empty void inside
Feeling comfortable with oneself
Because in the light a hundred people can see you
And well I guess that's why
Many of us cry in the dark
Head in a pillow
No light around.
And it's not the darkness that makes us cry
It indeed comforts us.
Then why do we fear the dark?
Is it because at the end of the day
We don't know what lurks inside
Is it our own demons
We fear?
Or are we just scared of the others who cry in the dark.
Thinking of what stories they hide
And are they as bad as ours?
Because the darkness doesn't let people judge us
Something the light let's people do
So, is the darkness , making us fear itself
Or is it our soul finding light?
    -Gunnika Mehra
Jun 2020 · 847
Yourself
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Amid a crowd
At a 90s bar
Sat dozens of people
Making no sound
All sorts of stories
They withheld from others
All they wanted was a ray of sunshine
Someone to light up the gloom
And in that very 90s bar
That day they saw a flower bloom.
A new waitress walked inside
In her hair a flower
And as everyone stared at that colour in hair
A flame sparked
And she brought life
Even without trying to
She loved and cared for herself
And others loved her too
She raised many lives out of sadness
A medicine to many pains
All the people in the bar now knew
How to discard pain.
It's about loving oneself
And caring first for your own
Bring yourself up
And then with your flame
Others will alight
Accept yourself first
And then you will know your might
In the hubbub of life
Don't forget to love your own being
And everyday when you look in the mirror
At your self smile
You are God's best creation
Love yourself and care for your mind
And when you see flowers blossom wherever you go
There will be a secret behind your smile
Your mind is looked after and so is your soul
By loving your own self you brought about a change
And if all of us do that ,
Then we will see the difference
And in Michael Jackson's words,
"Heal the world
Make it a better place
For YOU and for ME
And the entire human race. "
And to heal the world
Heal yourself first
And to care for each other
Care for yourself first.
And for everlasting love
Love yourself first.
I took 90s because that time people usually wore dark colors like brown, grey and black, unlike now. Although weirdly they were happier than us. Might even be ironical, the reference to 90s.
Jun 2020 · 640
Celebrate the defeat
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
A feast,
For a defeat.
Why party only when you win ,
Celebrate the defeat too.
It ain't like you lost yourself,
A match is all that is lost.
There are many to come,
This won't be the last.
Failure is the beginning of success,
Because it shows you tried.
Being great just doesn't fly in ,
It comes with toil .
Hardwork makes you who you are,
It brings respect and trust.
Determination is an armour,
To fight a battle.
The will to fight till the last,
Even if you lose.
There are two gifts in the end,
Victory and defeat.
Maybe you got defeat this time,
But it is not a crime for someone else to be better than you.
Victory, well it's tough,
It may take more than you know.
The effects are not instant,
It comes with acceptance.
Of the defeat we so disgust,
Celebrate your defeat and pain
Because you just can't crumble to the ground.
It takes patience for Victory,
And learning from one 's mistake.
But the point is to face defeat,
Whatever it takes.
Jun 2020 · 138
The girl inside.
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
(This is a narrative poem where an unborn girl whose *** has been determined and instead of being aborted she is being burned alive. Her mother has been locked in a room which has been set ablaze.)
Late one afternoon,
I lay in my mother's womb.
I could sense her depression,
And knew she was facing oppression.
I heard something smash,
Inside I tasted ash.
I could feel some heat,
But casually mom took a seat.
Very softly she said to the girl inside,
"My dear listen to my story by my side."
She began as quietly as ever,
"I never wanted to live here ,never.
I was married at eighteen and my new family was quite mean.
Slowly,me they started to accept,
But still at night I wept.
I was under pressure,
In my womb I had to bear treasure.
The treasure was to be a boy,
But their hopes I did destroy."
The heat grew intense
And unbearable warmth i could sense.
Though mom didn't stop and said,
"My dear many tears have I shed.
I can't save myself,
Because the exits are no help.
They are locked and,
my hopes are blocked.
I want to save you dear,
But only to my heart you are near.
To life say goodbye
And to heaven say hi.
Your dad didn't want you to live,
And there ain't no good doctors in the village.
So if you die, so do I."
And with that sentence I felt the heat ,
And accepted defeat.
Jun 2020 · 551
The tulip
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
I am a flower
all of you must know?
Not really famous you see,
the rose stole that place.
Am I not a flower with beauty ?
Rose comes with thorns I come sin free .
Then why am I not used by lovers to express their glee?
Lately as I grew in the meadow,
all my followers questioned me .
They say they made me leader,
to defeat roses ,our worst enemy.
I tried so hard to make them believe
that we can live together through our friend ,humanity.
But they were all against it
and trampled me on the ground.
Like 'The Patriot' the years of hard work drowned.
I was their leader
I wanted to stand for the right .
and my friend 'the rose'
helped me sitting by my bedside.
We were both of the same ideals
both of us were thrown out.
Well now we tended to each other
as our days whisked by.
The devil flowed into their petals
we can't do a thing .
but I wish we could
I wish the roses and tulips could be friends
till time's end.
Gunnika mehra
(THE FOLLOWING POEM IS A METAPHOR FOR HUMAN BEINGS SUBSTITUTED BY FLOWERS. THE POEM CAN BE TAKEN AS AN EXAMPLE TO PUT OUR JEALOUSIES ASIDE AND TRY LIVING TOGETHER IN PEACE . IT CAN BE TAKEN AS A MILD MOCKERY AGAINST THE LEADERS IN GENERAL ,WHO FAIL TO UNDERSTAND THE IMPORTANCE OF STANDING FOR THE RIGHT.)
Jun 2020 · 444
Turning the tables around
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
The belt which holds your pants up,
The same belt holds my head high.
The game which you play at night,
The same game I deny.
The heels which I wear,
from them beware.
The make-up in my bag,
Is yet another instrument hiding my despair.
The smiles with which you greet me,
One day I will turn the tables Around.
Maybe today i ain't doing it,
But it doesn't mean that I wouldn't do it ever.
The day will come nd it will come soon.
Maybe you do not acknowledge me today,
But remember my day will come too.
It isn't only about what you did to me,
But what you did to hundreds out there.
Maybe it isn't daily that we speak up,
But the day we do can put behind the bars thousands of you.
(This poem is a message from a **** survivor to her rapists)

— The End —