Girls are meant to be pretty

Boys are meant to be wild

No matter what, girls reaction have to be mild.

Uncomfortable clothes, bleeding and pain

Yet after rape, groping and sexual harassment girls have to be sane.

Nothing is ever done, everything always remained

Nothing is ever done to stop the act, nobody is ever refrained.

The empty souls of the hurt women left behind

All that is left is skin and bones, there is no peace and mind.

What are we doing to help these girls,

Except to bring them attention?

Why is all we do sit and watch,

While we say we try and make a connection

Girls are called sl*ts and wh***s for explaining what really happened,

Yet all we do is sit and watch and act as if we have been maddened.

We let this act keep happening, we leave the girls with fear

We let them talk about what happened, and pretend that we can hear.

We blame the person who actually is the victim,

Making it seem like she could have kicked him.

She could have defended herself, prevented the attack.

We say that she could have fought back.  

But what actually happened was that she was pinned to the ground,

Not able to lift a finger by the time she was found.

We say that girls wanted it,

But did you ever even ask?

While commiting the horrid act, while commiting the terrible task?

Did you ever ask for her permission, did she ever say that she was okay?

Or is that something that you just never heard her say?

She was left with a shame that could never be washed away,

A disease that sticks like poison or dismay.

Her soul

That used to be

Colorful and alive,

Her soul,

That now is dark, dead and lifeless.

Because of you.

Because of what you did.

You sucked the life out of her very existence.

Yet she is not afraid of the world ending,

For her, it has ended many times,

And began, in the morning.

He touched her paralyzed body,

As if she belongs to him

His walnut eyes staring into her empty soul

Eyes that she once categorized as trusting,

Little did she know they would haunt her for the rest of her existence.

The eyes are the window to the soul,

But all he could see was a something dead and wilted,

Something that would haunt her for the rest of her existence.

His strong big sweaty hands over her entire body,

Wandering in places where he wasn't supposed to be,

Something that would haunt her for the rest of her existence.