The POM
Published in

The POM

Day of Reckoning [tw: rape, sexual assault]

Your blood will sing death notes to your ears.

Image from twitter by @levy_braide

First, you start being apologetic about wanting my body, you let your hands roam around every part of it
I told you I do not like to be touched by you every time you try
You play deaf. I said stop. You kiss your teeth.

You told me not to blab too much and be glad I’m being touched. You said, “do not make a big deal out of this. Stop pretending, you’re a big girl. You know these things.”

Stop! I responded.
But my No steps on your ego and your entitlement grew wings, flying in my face.

I laid in silence and cried inside
I screamed when it hurts
I begged you to stop
You cupped my mouth in your hands
And like an eye drop, your sweat filled my eyes.

My tears meant nothing to you
You suddenly turned into a monster, hitting me continuously with so much rage in your throat.
I became terrified with how my own body would make a man so furious and wants to kill just for a few minutes of pleasure.

Blood. Sweat. Semen.
I cursed you under my breath.

You satisfied your body and left mine with physical and emotional scars I’ll bear and carry for the rest of my life.

On the night of reckoning,

You slept peacefully till your whole body starts to swell. The thing in between your legs screamed louder than the ones you violated. It has a voice.

Your blood sang death notes to your ears
You became terrified, begging for mercy
How soon you forget.

The curse turned into carcass on your skin
You couldn’t carry yourself up
Your lack of self control made your pleasure seeking organs burst into grains of burnt bodies

You saw faces of the much younger ones you violated

The toddler who couldn’t speak
The innocent five-year-old who only wanted a chocolate
The fourteen-year-old, whose chest was beginning to grow round and fuller
The twenty-year-old who was unable to defend herself after being vulnerable enough to cry on your shoulder.

You saw these faces, dragging their feet in a pool of blood. Coming for you like an apocalypse. You took to your heels faster than the rush force of a waterfall.
You didn’t look back, just like when you had yourself thrusting in and out of them.

Right before you was the god of all your victims, pulling your veins, one at a time. Twisting your phallus into folds of unbearable torture.
Your eyes popped, like thunder you trembled. Your heart on your palms.

You prayed for hell.

To all the men who lack self-control and feel entitled to a woman’s body. Guess what? We’d come for you. Your day of reckoning will come, too. Expect us.

To all the women who have been vandalised and left with an emotional trauma to live with, we see you, we hear your voice and we’ll speak on your behalf. You are not alone.
(Psalms 9:9)

©Vurzie Kim

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