It took one finger to break into her
one finger to make her feel violated and dirty
two to make her scream
the boys laughed afterward mockingly
why you so upset girl? we didn’t deflower you
you should thank us bitch
or maybe we should just do what we came here to do
they pinned her down, her tights stretched between her legs
like her fractured hymen
she saw the beginning of tears and inside felt
the raw and hurt center cry out
don’t come back don’t ever come back
they were only eleven years old
lying on the floor in the outside toilets
staring at the stars hardly there because of all the smog
her lungs filled with hurt
they were her friends
until they became rabid dogs
she didn’t know what switched the switch or why
they felt she was there to poke and prod
they were too small and she was too small and everything about it
was premature
which meant
waiting until it happened again
she wasn’t a victim but some things reoccur
as if on some awful cycle
sometimes she’d shudder thinking about
their little hard cocks
trying to pry their way in
the way it felt to be hurt like that
with unwashed fingers scrabbling and opening
the parts of her nobody should
she could visualize the cement beneath her
the smell of urinals and their unwashed genitals
if they had known enough to put them in her mouth
they would have
thankful for small mercies she knew
kids these days wouldn’t be so innocent
they see porn before they know how to spell
pornography
what ideas they must get and how
many bad things go on behind closed doors
or even ones held shut by little boys
seeking to immitate older brothers
she would have impaled them with
her rage if she wasn’t so ashamed
so she said absolutely nothing to anyone
least of all the teachers who would have
called her a slut who asked for it
even at eleven years old.
***
When she reached fourteen
the Golem returned
held her down, muffled her mouth
stuck it in like a needle threading through skin
her scream pierced every limb
and nobody heard
nobody wondered why
she wasn’t home for dinner
her plate was left in the fridge
she was emptied of the last piece
of her soul
left gasping where her privacy had been
legs spread and men hustling in
one after the other took their turn
after all wasn’t it a party? Make it count!
her face closed off and remote like she was dead
some of them were small and bony
their penises hardly large enough to feel
between the soreness and the swelling
others bore into her like a metalic truck
thrusting her back onto her thin tail bone
hands around her neck
fingers pinching her nipples and breasts
they filled her with a disgusting smell
she was never going to be whole again
or clean
and when it was over, it had just begun
face after face, cock after cock
a tape on repeat of her worst nightmare
they came, they came and they went
the only evidence there staining the bed
and her rubbery legs unable to flee
tied and sodomized like a string of beads
she flew out of her crumpled body
a bird of wing and feather only
she saw someone she almost recognized
torn and ribboned and splayed
a garish doll, a parody, a destroyed shape
someone she was no longer
as she lifted, higher and higher, beyond that point
no pain anymore just the thick blush of shame
hidden in plumage
she felt nothing but
a choking word on her tongue
WRONG
WRONG
WRONG
her child’s form
her hardly grown self
the silence of nothing
then it did not matter
what time she wasn’t coming home
all the world was quiet now
movement had stilled
the door was shut
nobody knocked
nobody unbuttoned their pants
and sank to their knees
lifting her up for one more final
free fuck
as if she were no more than a hole
not a human
not a worthy soul
immitation the greatest form of flattery
is not
she was cold now to the touch
her spirit somewhere in the stars
it took one finger to break into her
and a record set on repeat playing
over and over until it scratched
and could not play
anymore
the song of rape.
For all the survivors whose voices are quashed.
Awful, and heartbreaking, to read these words, but they are so powerful, I couldn’t not read them. Amazing, as always. 😊😊
This was hard to read but brilliant too. You have written very candidly about something very difficult; but I feel reassured I’m not alone 💛💕💗 Thank you xx
I love you candy girl
This is a hard piece to read yet written very well
Thank you lovely. It’s not autobiographical. But it’s a story too often experienced. My desire for that to change caused me to write it even though I wasn’t sure how it would be received. Thank you 💓
Bless you friend. Stories must be told to create change and there will be change. 💓 tight hug
Thank you my friend. This is to speak for all those out there who cannot speak. Thank you for your support of those voices. You’re a lovely person.
damn, that was hard to read, and very powerful. Agony, given voice.
You are welcome sweet candy
I just wrote about my personal experience it wasn’t easy I don’t like to say it out loud but to heal I can’t hold it in
Well, you know what they say: takes one to know one. 😊
Blush. 💓
Going to your site now
💓
😊😊
As always, you weave a lifetime of hurt in so few words.
they were her friends
until they became rabid dogs
she didn’t know what switched the switch or why
so fully insightful.
So damned powerful and true, Candace.
Let no one say “Too Graphic” “Too clear a picture” Let them not cover their eyes, their ears from this truth. Let them know the full horror so excellently told. By whatever they may hold holy, let them learn.
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – The title is “The Song Of Rape”, and that it truly is.
Painful. Awful. I wish it wasn’t needed. I wish it were something foreign to existence. I can’t like this, but you always have my support.
Gruesomely painful, your powerful gouging words made me cry, and I wish I knew the answer to, why.
I nearly threw up. I love/hate this work so much
💓
💓 my friend 💓
💓
Superb answer you presient soul 💓
Thank you dearest bob
Thank you sister
Thank you dearest Linda
This was heartbreaking to read, but it was necessary to read it all…and to comment, to let you know how much I admire your strength. I hope that writing it down helps to heal your heart. ❤
😊 💌
Thank you very much. It wasn’t my story but an amalgamation to speak for all victims and survivors. I really appreciate you reading this and I think by standing up for justice we all bring the chance of change 💓 thank you so much
I agree. By writing the truths, whether they’re our own or that of others, we can hopefully make a change in society and let all victims and survivors feel less alone or isolated.
Heartbreaking 😢
Oof, so painful to read. Thank you for writing this.
Thank you for your courage to give a glimpse into a part of us that is always seething just beneath the skin. I once served in a country torn by genocidal war where women and young girls were raped repeatedly until some chose death by any means. Children were sold in great numbers to the world sex trade. It was barely mentioned. But here, through the victims eyes, we glimpse the horror unfold and cannot look away or deny.
Even though I just couldn’t read it all (felt a cold blade running down my spine) …. I really wanted to as I enjoy your writing!
That was so moving and heartbreaking. There are a lot of girls out there who have gone through something like this but never spoke about it to anyone. This unfortunate reality is really awful.
Thanks. I’ve looked into more than one set of eyes that spoke the damage done that voices did not know how to utter. You speak for many, so very many. ❤
Oh my god, Candace…. this is gripping and powerful. Difficult and painful but oh so necessary. You are amazing. ❤️
This was a painful read but one that is very necessary. Thank you for speaking on behalf of all the victims out there. You have a way with words, my dear. ❤
This is so graphic. Your words weave in many wefts – mystical magic; soft sensuality ; and so much more. This ? This is the silent scream given voice.
Harrowing to read – pressing ‘like’ seemed so wrong. Powerful and disturbing this must have drained you to write it. I have no more words.
Such strong harsh words, you made me almost feel ashamed to be a man!
Wow! You really grab the reader and twist them until it hurts! Powerful!
Growing up over the years, I made lots of friends who were women. I sadly heard sooo many stories from them that they only told a few close friends regarding their interactions with men (boys). It broke my heart to hear their stories. I imagined them changed in that very instant (or instants) from the little girl or young woman they had been. From the happier one and the more confident one…. to the more guarded, the more distrustful, to angrier one. I felt they had lost a piece of their spirit inside them because of it and that they desperately wanted it back in least some small way or to simply reset the world in themselves, to see it as more innocent and deserving as they once did. I could only give them my words, my empathy, my time, my laugh, my smile, my love as a friend to show them that the world in part is a good place with good people and love still exists.
you are “love” sister in so many ways…. you heal with words and passionate compassion….
Thank you so much dear Michael
You’re so right P, it astounds me how many experience this, we say 1-7 but it’s WAY more than that, more like who hasn’t been? And that just … takes my breath away. You are the kind of brother who all women should have and be able to confide in. Love does still exist!
Don’t be. Not all men are rapists. Those that are should be ashamed. But it’s not a purely gender thing, whilst most rapists are men, there are females who enable them or abuse people also. It’s the act not the gender that should feel shame – other men who are innocent of ever doing something like this should be angry at the men who do it, because they make the rest look bad when they’ve done nothing wrong xo
Thank you dear friend xo
It is graphic sorry! I just felt there was no other way for the sake of what I was trying to convey. xo PS you used one of my favorite words (weft) gorgeous word
Thank you very much your response really means a lot to me, to know I have achieved a voice for others, really is what I intended. Thank you again very much.