Ode to a Rapist


A poison to my roots, your rancid rot
did blacken somber secrets in my skin
You plucked my petals but I loved you not
and germinated seething, spitting sin
This quiet wrath that writhes and throbs my head
that salts my wounds and bubbles in my bones
is tangled in the white sheets of your bed
and silenced by your wretched sighs and moans
I feel the shadow of a knife in hand
and wishful whispers beg you, just the tip?
It’d feel quite nice for me- you’d understand
Oh low you’d go, a scorching one-way trip
Though still that flower, wilted, weak, forlorn
I pray from inner anguish strength be born

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