Her Scars

She walked into the class
Eager to make some friends
Start a new chapter in life
Her past she wanted to mend

The girls were too closed to her
She turned to the boys
Laughed with them, smiled at him
Of being open she wasn’t coy

But they turned on her
Branded her a slut, a whore
Slandered her name
Rumored she was voracious for more

Like a rat in a nest of vipers
She would run, she would hide
Alas but to no avail
Their time they would patiently bide

Her own sex abandoned her
Afraid of all the nasty boys
Left her all alone in misery
To be thrown about like an unwanted toy

She desperately pleaded for help
Arrived her knight in shining armor
He ripped the leader to shreds
Cut him up like a butcher

All it did was increase the ferocity
Of their relentless attacks on her
Ambush her at every corner
Full of threats and hurtful slurs

Helpless with none to defend her
She shunned everyone
Walked dead to the world
Wishing everyday she could run

Eventually the attacks died down
But the damage was already done
Her branded scars would never fade
For them it was just some fun

Picture Courtesy http://www.thechristoff.deviantart.com


The Woman in the Doorway

This is an actual incident that happened in me in the 11th grade, about 3 years ago. And it still haunts me to this day. Her face is burned into my memory. It’s the one regret I have in life so far, that I did not have the courage to take initiative.


She lies there in the doorway
Face blotchy from the punches and pummels
Her body too weak to stand
It was all she could do to turn the handle

Half dead from the abuses she’s received
Letting her guard down means going into the light
But she wants to live another day
She chooses to hold on and fight

Suddenly the elevator door chimes
Two young boys walk out
She tries her hardest to scream
Only a feeble whimper emerges out

But they notice and rush to her side
Ask her what’s wrong with terrified eyes
She’s far too worn out to speak
And the language barrier far too deep

She motions for their water bottle
Grabs it, starts desperately drinking
They look to each other in terror and confusion
Not knowing what to do, the consequences fearing

She pushed her phone weakly to them
Asked to call the number displayed
The women’s helpline, the police, God only knows
Their frantic efforts doubled with the sight of blood where she lay

But alas her phone would not do it’s job
Betrayed her in her time of need
They handed it back with apologetic eyes
Their muscles tensed, ready to flee

And that’s exactly what they did
Fled, fearing the consequences
Left her there alone bleeding
Slowly going out of her senses

They didn’t look back once
Didn’t call for the police or other help
Took to their heels, leaving dust trails behind
Like the cowards they were, the young whelps

And she remained in the doorway
Her feeble cries for help gone unanswered
Lord knows what happened to her
I hope someone came to save her


Picture Courtesy: http://www.gettyimages.com