Everyone Tells Me
By Alma A.
Everyone tells me
It wasn’t my fault,
That karma will get him,
Will leave him to rot.
Everyone tells me
I should have fought harder,
And why did I wear that,
I was asking for trouble.
Everyone tells me,
That ‘no’ isn’t binding,
It’s fluid, it’s blurred,
I am overreacting.
Filthy, contaminated,
Shameful, guilt-ridden.
I could have stopped him,
A dim future, unwritten.
Everyone tells me,
That I’m not okay,
But maybe I will be,
Maybe someday.
When hell freezes over,
And rapists stop raping,
Only there might I get
My chance at escaping.
But when my words reach no ears,
And the fighting ceases,
I’m the one who will be there
To pick up the pieces.
Alma A. is originally from Boston, and now resides in Canada with her cat and dog. She is a student with a passion for writing, and she aspires to do it on a professional level. She mostly writes science fiction in her spare time and sells her crafts on the side.
Photograph by Jane Fox via a Creative Commons license.
A note from Writers Resist:
Thank you for reading! If you appreciate creative resistance and would like to support it, you can make a small, medium or large donation to Writers Resist from our Give a Sawbuck page.