After everything that’s happening with Harvey Weinstein, I thought I would share a short poem about a rape I experienced and the shame that comes with it.
One day there was an angel. An angel wrote a story. Do you love me? It’s a mystery. My heart is beating, baby. I feel like crying. I’m weak. I can’t sleep. I’m dramatic and pathetic. One day I’m gonna know what really happened. I loved you. I loved when you raped me. The way you held me down, I can’t be with any other guy. I belong to you. One day, there was an angel. An angel wrote a story. She wrote that you would rape me so go ahead and rape me, rape me, baby. Rape me, rape me, rape me. She wrote that you would meet me, and you would leave me. She chose you to hurt me. She wrote that you would lie, she wrote that I would cry. She wrote some other guys that went with other girls. She wrote you and me together in a fantasy. She wrote my laugh. She wrote my tears. She wrote my pain. Baby, rape me please, its not your fault. Baby, leave me please, its not your fault. Hurt me, rape me, love me, do me. One day there was an angel, a silly little angel, she wrote you and me and many others as a fantasy.