An intoxicating fragrance occurs in the heat of passion
It swells the senses, driving mad, endorphins
To the point where passion becomes poison

Bottled up, deep within the centre of the core
Lined and draped by bones and flesh
The beast that lives inside, comes out a wilde boar

Charging hard with razor sharp tusks, low to the ground
That would rise, to cut down
To hold in its grasp and take a flower before its bloom

Unlike a force of nature that can devastate
This is an act so vile, death turns its back
That it would allow a life, to live in pain and hate

The touches would be hard and hurtful
Weight would be crushing breath from lungs
Inhaling, nearly impossible

Penetration ignites a fire that burns
Sending bolts of lightning down the legs
The throat choked by a hand of horns

Vile, is the stench of possession against a will
The killing of a soul with a right to live
Left in a life where time stands still

Forever trapped in fear
A rape that replays every day
Leaving a trail, of a single tear


i cant write my story but its a similar feeling to this poem. at 16 I was and it haunts till today. never goes away.
End The Violence In Any Gender
Peace and Love