His rough hands

The way he handled me

How he pushed me down,

In my half unconscious state.


First my jeans,

Then my shirt

Then those I call undies…


Used, a thing

A toy,

Emotions going through my head


Why me?

Why did he choose me?

Why can’t he be in a cell by now?


4 letters

Taking that which I saved

For a special time…

Just those 4 letters…

Taking that which was saved

This poem is about: 
Our world


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