I was 14 and at a Methodist summer camp.
They told us we could spend the last night outside.
Clear sky, under the stars  I was happy.
Then he put his hands on my head.
And his hands down my pants.
It felt wrong, I was no longer happy.
I wanted to escape, but I couldn’t move.
The next day I went home.
I was called names.
I lost my friends and “silly” rumors spread.
I put myself in that situation. It was my fault.
It took me 10 years to realize,
It was wrong,
I couldn’t get out,
It wasn’t my fault.