Strong arms
grip her against her will
Roving fingers
strip her clothes off against her wish
Randy hands
molest her without consent
Whilst she
craves the embrace of the night to shield her dignity
But guess
this isn’t her night.
Sprawled
and gagged she lay defeated as men without faces
suck the
life from her body,
filthy
words assault her ears
mocking
the body that now seem alien to her
but each
has his style, so what’s the hurry
after all,
it’s a popular saying, the more the merry
and so
on this merry go round she goes…some ride too slow, some much too fast
leaving
her winded, she's lost count of how many round she’s gone
Now if only
retribution was something she could cash out
rather
closing her eyes, praying she could tap out
and
bring an end to the rehearsal so she’d wash the stench that clung off.
Oh! She washed
it off al-right…the stench I mean
if you
count the petrol being poured on her as water and
the
match as soap to scrub the marks left off
like
wood for a bon fire, she is set ablaze and her captors dance round in glee
knowing
they will walk away free
with
none the wiser.
Silently
contemplating the insurgency of their act
and conferring
on themselves the title of zoro
placed to
rid the earth of the girl that now looks sculpted from ash
dressed
to torment their eyes...with certainty! She was an ashi
well…
that’s the line they will stick to till hell freezes over
at least
for now, everything looks kosher
their
deed hidden but soon the chicken will come home to roost
or maybe
…I just have too much faith in fate?
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