Where are the men? Where are MY men?

No...Wait...I am theirs. Remember?

They pinned me and sushed me and took the hush right out of me.

Their hands on my arms and mouth were reminders that I was theirs,

they do what they want.

What I wanted...to be with them? NO...

What were my exclamations of pain telling them other than no, stop,

youre....you're taking me.

Yes they would say. Yes, she is ours now.

We can wipe her off inbetween, but she won't wipe us away.

Her baby she will cary? No, our blood mixing with hers,

you see that blood rolling down her legs?

That's the blood that will feed our child.

Our kin, is she our kin? No, wrong again.

What in the pain makes me their sister?

What in my eyes says I want five guys?

Who's ring hurts more? The ring on the first man to soil me

or the invisible ring of the wife these men are teaching me to be?

Is this African initiation or the cleansing of the whore I have become?

This pain must be my punishment, right?

No hun, punishment for what?...

For who I am.

What other than theirs could I be?