you know the men that are holding you down
you have seen them before
buying beer
leering at whoever passed by
and now, one of them
smashing his fist against your face
your teeth
nose spurting blood
the others are laughing
taunting
holding back your arms and hurling insults

your face is numb by the time they've finished
the front of your shirt saturated in your own blood
they ***** you
but all you do is fall to the ***** cement and curl into a ball
and they eventually lose interest
in sliding their hands down your pants
so when they walk away, you tell yourself
that you're not going to cry
because experience has told you
that tears only sting your broken nose
and make the stains on your skin more noticeable when you rub off the blood
at two am
staring into your broken reflection in a ***** mirror and hating what you see