**** transitive verb
: to force (someone) to have *** with you by using violence or the threat of violence
It sounds like just a word to me.
But it's so much more than it's meaning.
To me it's red eyes and the smell of ****
Like when I was no older than four
And heard the creak, as my step father opened the door,
And held me down as I screamed
But used his force as he slapped me.
And his eyes were red, as he smelled of ****
I cried as I experienced hell,
And when he finished, he told me not to tell.
It changed my life.
It made me feel worthless
So when I was older, and I thought I found the one
That was when the problems re-begun.
I wanted him to love me, and I felt like it was slipping away,
And I felt like having *** was the only was to make him stay.
I was half right
Then he left.
****
It sounds like just a word to me.
But it's so much more than it's meaning.
I got a call from my boss one day,
And he asked me to come over,
But when I got there, I smelt the ****
And it made me shudder.
I smiled, and said,
"You wanted to see me?"
He said, "I heard you were selling something."
And he told me that I looked pretty.
I explained the fundraiser,
But then told him that I should leave,
I was uncomfortable
With my surroundings
He pulled me towards him, and sat on his bed,
And kissed me.
When I tried to stop him, he said,
"You know that he's probably doing the same things with her."
And he was probably right.
Stunned and hurt,
I just sat and stare,
And he kissed me again,
And touched me there
"Please, stop" I said,
"I have to go."
He ripped off my clothes,
As I kept saying, "No"
He pushed inside my as hard as he could,
And I screamed as my body released crimson blood
And he slapped me.
I knew what was happening,
I knew it all too well,
And just like with my step dad,
I cried as I experienced hell.
And he told me not to tell.
RED
Like my stinging cheek, and body.
Like the numbers on the clock.
Like the freshly washed sheets were turning.
Like his eyes.
When he was done, It was 7:35.
I walked to the bathroom, and wiped my burning eyes.
"Stop crying" I whispered to myself,
And I grabbed my pants off the shelf
And put them back on,
Like I've done for so long.
As I walked out, and tried to leave,
He pulled me toward him and kissed me,
I flinched, and I couldn't look at him too,
Then he whispered in my ear, "You're good at what you do."
I ran out of the house and walked for a while,
I walked
And I walked
And I walked for miles.
It's been almost a year now,
Since that day,
When he took me back,
To when it was taken away.
****
It sounds like just a word to me.
But it's so much more than it's meaning.
To me it's red eyes and the smell of ****