Something immensely immoral was about to happen,
As you can distinctly smell the stench of insanity in the hills;
The skies looked so full of a sadistic passion,
Suggesting an infamy that was to go down the historicals.

As she raced through the meadows,
The girl, about 16, was seized by the 6 demons;
Who wore the skin of humans,
But were monsters on loose from the south of heavens.

They unchasted and murdered the young maiden with pure brutality,
Who might've died asking her god, just why did it all happened to her?
The poor soul is still seeking justice against the insane and wicked criminality,
From the system of law that is damned to the very core.

Based on the infamous Indian Gudiya (the name of the victim) Rape and Murder case.

RIP Gudiya! May your soul be granted Salvation.

Composed in a b a b rhyme scheme.

I tell myself 
That I do not remember much
But I do remember
how hot the room was
And how I walked home 
In the heat
And the shower stream
Burned my skin
As I slammed by head against the wall
And that it hailed that night
Cooling everything off
And I let it hit my skin
And it hurt
And I laughed
Because life is so strange

I do remember feeling
Somehow unworthy of existence
Of someone desiring me
I remember I stopped eating 
And I always had a headache
And I would run
Until I could see little lights in my eyes
I remember my roommate worried I had lost too much weight
And a friend having a dream I was hollow
I remember looking in the mirror and crying

And I do remember feeling alone
The most alone I had ever felt

and The the purple room with butterflies
with a woman who handed me tissues
I tried to speak
But mostly it was sobs
And her telling me it was okay

That month I cried everyday 
In public where people could see
And In classes where I would leave for the bathroom
At home In the shower and In my bed

I remember the feeling I was ruined
I couldn’t pick up a book
Or eat or study
Or fully be present 
I remember looking up articles
When will this end
When will I be okay 
How to heal without a therapist 
How to tell someone

I remember that one day 
Everything just switched off
And I stopped thinking about it 
Reminding myself I do not remember

As Joe raped Christine,
He couldn't stop talking!
"I'll bet you're glad that I'm having sex with you rather than one of those Muslim guys," Joe said.
"I really hate those guys!"
"Just thinking about It makes me want to fuck you harder!"
In her traumatized haze.
Christine started thinking that,
She ought to become a Muslim?
If she donned the hijab,
She might escape notice
From disgusting men
Like Joe.

axr 2d

i'll tell you what's fucked up about society
a man in a room filled with women is excited
he is checking every one of them out,
his eyes searching for the one with the biggest boobs
and the ones with the big ass,
his eyes scan the pretty faces for the sparkling eyes and by the end,he's convinced that he's in love with the girl with the perfect smile.
he is quick to point out their flaws,
one of them has a button nose
and someone has acne scars on her face
one of them happens to be taller than him
and another one a different race.
he is excited,he is aroused, he wants to get lucky, he want to make new friends by the end of the night.
in the locked room, he wants to have a time that only vodka can make him remember

a woman
in a room filled with men
is terrified.
she buttons up her shirt till she can feel it choking her.
she covers up because she doesn't want them staring at the bits of skin exposed.
across the room, she sees a man winking at her and quietly rubbing himself.
she desperately looks for a safe space, a familiar face,
she looks for somebody from the locked room who can save the day.
the men slowly encircle her and mentally undress her
and with every item of clothing they remove,
she becomes more of an object.
she is anxious,she wants to run for her life,she just wants to make it home safely by the end of the night.

the locked room is a paradise to one
and hell for another

this is actually a spoken word poem. i have been experimenting with new styles of writing since the past few weeks and this is one of the products

Welcome, my Fellow Americans
To the Fraudulent Financial Fuckover Fiesta!
Because YOU are the most exceptional people
In the most EXCEPTIONAL Nation, on Earth,
Only YOU are invited
To this EXCLUSIVE Party
Where you will experience the PRIVILEGE
Of being violently raped
Abused and exploited
By the Rich
The Powerful
And the Famous!

16/12/14 20.13

'man wants chaos gotta have it.
drawn to it, revel in it

the job on the media is not to eliminate the evils of the world
persuade us to accept it, get used to living with them.
they want us to be passive observers'

do you want to rape me?

i dont know oh wait i do
Breanna Ables Jul 17

who am I suppose to be?
what did I do to deserve this?
lost childhood do to your hands.
you came into my bedroom, full intentions
to cause destruction.
why did you choose me?
a seven year old
who dressed in pink and wore flower crowns?
I guess your were a monster who fed
off the pain.
three years.
I suffered for three years.
you don't care, you never did.
I use to call you family.
but now you are just Anthony.

Breanna Ables Jul 17

I do not understand why my mother cries at night
I do not understand why my father is disappointed
I do not understand why he hurt me
I do not understand this numbing feeling
I do not understand the scars littered across my skin.
I do not understand this fear.
do I understand? no,
I may never understand why
I feel this way or why my family
is torn apart.
I do not understand. cant you see?
I do not have a reason to be confused.
I should understand.
I cant understand.
make me understand.

Kat Nobody Jul 14

Savage was lovely but was robbed shortly after birth
her father killed her mother then he went after her
her daddy had a dark sickness rooted in himself
he abused her until she bruised and no one came to help

every night he forced her in his bed till she bled
she felt weak and defiled and begged for the end
she started dreaming about murder every night
everyday she woke up screaming, more terrified

years went by and she grew into a savage beast
she grew older and colder and needed release
so she tricked her villain and put on a grand show
slashed him wildly in his own bed, then slit his throat

she couldn’t stop herself, next, she chopped off his head  
then she spit on his corpse, time to burn him to ash
covered in his blood she let out a sickly laugh
ironic she killed him using her natural craft

dwelling on the frightening sight in front of her eyes
she was liberated, but needed to know ‘the why’  
but she has to be careful, she can’t be out on a limb
she’s acutely aware of the jungles every whim

she knows her wounds run deep, they won’t let her be free  
and no other beast must know of her misery
she’ll never feed if her prey sees even one loose tear  
she’ll be eaten alive if she humors those foul fears

she has to hold her head up high and keep living her lies
so she lights a fire and pretends she doesn't want to die
she knows now, gifts of beauty come with a dark gloomy price
she learned and endured and now she’s the killer in disguise

Mikayla Smith Jul 11

“Overdose” - July 11, 2017

She lay on the cold concrete,
Dress lifted, head held down.
Her insides have gone numb
As innocence bleeds into the ground.

After it had been done,
He told her she better keep her mouth shut.
Told her it was “all her fault,”
Said she shouldn’t have dressed like a slut.

Then, she goes home,
Suffering all alone.
No one to listen, no one to care,
Nothing but the imprint of his menacing glare.

When will it end?
When will it end?

He stays awake at night,
Listening in on his father’s two o’clock rage.
Didn’t bother to wonder what it was this time,
Just another one of Daddy’s alcoholic haze.

In their brokenness,
The shadows don’t even come out anymore.
The walls surrounding are slowly crumbling
But it doesn’t surprise him anymore.

Love knows nothing but black eyes and bleeding hearts,
At least that’s what he’s come to know living in the dark.
The whispers say, “Escape while you still have the chance.”
If he did that, his mother’s blood would be on his hands.

When will it end?
When will it end?

In their brokenness,
The tears flow faster than they ever have before.
Something to take away the pain,
Something to end the internal war.

The flag of surrender sits on the table,
They’ll walk through the walls they built so high.
Maybe there’s a better home awaiting
In the wounded sky.

When will it end?
When will it end?

Every day, people suffer in silence
And we just watch them wither away.
We read their scars like words on paper
But never ask them what caused them pain.

Our fellow humans would rather die
Than “bother” us with what’s on their mind.
They would rather take away their life
Because we have closed our hearts to the outside.

So, I have a question for you, my friends.
This stigma that we haven’t yet changed,
When will it end?

Not my usual poem. Inspired by a Tumblr post.
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