Girl
My youth was short. While others count Their early years as twenty five, mine number Roughly twelve. And these dozen Were always overshadowed by the need to do Better, as if his praise were some prize to be earned. Well I grudgingly received it – and more That I didn’t ask for. Who would, Knowing that which would come? And I had never even thought of it. Little more than a child. Surely the Earth herself cried out at my violation. For twelve full months his twisted superiority Defile me. Even while evidence of womanhood Was written in blood on me, the demand would come And the...
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