trigger warning: rape, trauma, violence

 i wash my face,

for the fifth time in the night,

and as I wander back to my bed,

I realise my eyes are still moist, my cheeks still red, my hair still uncombed, and my lips still swollen./

I drag myself to the window,

and look up at the stars to trace constellations,

but end up munching on the pack of chips on the bedside table, and tracing the big bruise on my wrist./

my mother says i need sleep

and so I close my eyes,

but with warned terror,

because as soon as I do,

all I see is a mad bunch of aged men, chasing me

and I can’t escape their gripping hands, and lusty eyes./

it’s a mess, all I can hear is my own panting,

whispers, and suddenly-

a knife, a belt, a pair of scissors, six men, and my body.

moans, aahhs, ‘please stop,’ gasps, ‘what a body’/

I force my eyes open,

for it’s disgusting, sickening, to replay the events,

and cry, be ashamed, victimised, sympathized, receiving ‘must be wearing short clothes’ comments, ‘not all men.’

no, no, not not all men./