Merciless People


United States
30° 28' 59.8404" N, 91° 3' 48.2472" W

Here I am sitting all alone, but it’s only in my mind
She is here, they are all here…scared…
Waiting…waiting for him to return.
All you hear are the teardrops of stolen bodies
Drip drop drip drop
All is quiet, and then you hear it, the unmistakable sound of his footsteps
His heavy labored breathing gets closer and closer
Everything stops. The door creeps open and he walks in
He looks at us with his beady wanting eyes full of lust and desire
Slowly, he undresses us with his eyes, seeing us only as objects.
His tools of trade, his unpolished goods ready to be sold.
His voice is like the bray of a dying horse
It pierces my ears like the screeching of fingernails against a chalkboard
He calls my name as he yanks me venomously to my feet
breathing his hot, dragon-like breath upon my teary, mascara-dripping face.
He shoves me into a dank room with a man at least fifteen years my senior.
The unattractive, badly-built, menacing figure is now hovering 3 feet away from my body.
The man pins me down and easily takes advantage of a defenseless sixteen year old virgin.
I hear screams of pain and agonizing terror, slowly recognizing them as my own
Intertwining like vines with the man’s groans of grotesque, delighted joy.
When he is done, he rolls his corpulent body off of me and leaves without a word.
Leaving me crying tears of suffering in my own blood, writhing with pain.
Who is going to save me? No one.
Expect the worst, wish death swiftly. May God have mercy.



This poem is trauma held captive on a page and brought forth every time someone reads it. It makes your heart race and wounds you but I'm sure in no way as much as it wounded you to write it. I hope this is not true, but if it is I'm truly sorry and I hope it is in the past. If it is not there are many places you can go to for help. As well, the whole community here at Power Poetry to help you. Thank you for your bravery in sharing this piece.


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