I Am {NOT} A Liar

Do you believe me now? Now that I'm telling the whole world about this crime?


The First Thing: Why didn't you yell?

Why didn't I yell?! Maybe I didn't scream because I didn't know what was going on. Because at 8 years old I thought my cousin could do no wrong. Because I still called my vagina my private parts and I had to idea what sex was?

And to be honest, I still don't think I do.


Next: What were you wearing?

The last time it happened? Or the countless others that nobody did anything about? By the way - my favorite nightgown.


Then: Does it hurt the first time?

I thought you were my friend. But the first time I tell you about it, you're curious to know if losing your "v-card" will hurt? Newsflash --- it hurt like hell but not as much as my heart hurts each and everytime somebody calls my rape mutual curiosity.


Finally: Why didn't you tell sooner?

On I don't know, maybe because the first memory of my cousin was him asking, no - telling, me to take my panties off. And when something happens so many times it becomes normal.

Are you sure you aren't exaggerating?

But he's a preachers son...

You were both minors less than 5 years apart so legally... it isn't rape.

Oh, and by the way - I'm a Christian. My heart and soul are on fire for the Lord, but that doesn't mean I can't say... rob a bank. So being a preachers son doesn't mean you can't rape.

This poem is about: 
My family


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741