Never Rape A Poet *trigger warning*

If you ever find yourself raping a poet,
do not be alarmed when they write about it.
They will recount the pleasures you gave
and paint them dark like a horror movie,
as if they were not in truth asking for it.
The firm, strangling embrace you cloaked them in
will be told as a prison of which they cannot escape,
even and especially at night when they try to sleep.
Your touch will be the reason why they no longer
allow their family members to touch them.
You will be why they cover up when they go out,
You will be why they never walk after dark,
You will be why every boyfriend, or girlfriend
they ever have afterwards is a threat.
You will be why the tears stream down their
face in a cascade of shrieking cries for help
from a body being broken into bite sized bits.

Or at least that's what their say in their poem-
because if you ever rape a poet they will make
everything that happened during and after
sound so tragic, so sad, as if it wasn't their fault.
They shouldn't have worn that low cut shirt,
They shouldn't have had that much to drink,
They shouldn't have been born into this family
if they did not want to be raped at age five and up,

I mean obviously that is the only explanation
for such an object of your will, is it not?
The only explanation for them not being thirilled
to be battered, broked, ripped apart by you-
a king amoung men, a god amoung kings-
is that the little poet BITCH was asking for it,
that their clothing was too sparse for you to not,
that they had been drunk and they should have known,
that they should have just laid there and taken it.
Instead they struggled, instead they told you to stop.
See, this is because when you rape a silly little poet,
they want it to be sweet and soft and romantic
Well you tried, but they just had to say no,
they just had to push you away.

Never rape a poet because you won't win.
Never rape a poet because she will remember.
Never rape a poet because he will hate you.
Never rape a poet because they will write about it,
they will stitch together a graphic recollection
of the night you came into their bedroom,
or the night you took them home in a cab,
or the night you stole away their last breath.
They will paint the picture of it in their blood-
Your betrayal will be splattered across the room
that you forced yourself oh so lovingly inside.
The map of where you touched him, or her, or them
will be on display on their body for everyone to see,
and you will never get another moment of peace.

Everyone will know what you did to the poet.
You will be told you are at fault, not her.
Your actions will be the object of hate and scorn.
Men will follow you down ally ways and beat you.
Woman will glare at you and avoid your touch.
Your mother and sister will be ashamed of you.
Your father will be inclined to give you a beating.
Because if you ever rape a poet, people will know.
And no rapist wants to be told they did wrong.


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