omg. this poem that im going to post may sound disturbing to you. maybe cause it is about sexual abuse. or maybe its because i wrote it when i was shitting the the toilet. once again, i cant believe im proclaiming this to the entire world!
i was on the way to poo when i saw my brother's project on crimes. and he had complied a range of poems that were about crimes. so i got inspired and wrote one on the go. so yea.
Seeing Her Future
It was a party in that room.
The male guests never stopped coming
There were females too:
One bound to the bed, frightened,
Another at a corner.
The guys prowled, dirtied the sheets
And protected her like how her clothes did.
They came in large packs.
She fought hard, the bed screamed.
The other at a corner- sitting.
The last guest arrived and the party ceased.
He scoured the room. He was hungry.
She was a greasy smoked chicken, well-done.
Smiling, an appetite was worked up.
The other at a corner- sitting and watching.
They left the party house
With their tails between their legs.
He had fun, she had trauma, she struggled
He finished the job.
The other at a corner- sitting, watching and next
In line.
