Stop- (of an event, action, or process) come to an end cease to happen
Stop- To come to an end
Stop- To come to
Stop- an end
She was 13
Just entering the good ole’ teen years
The road that leads to high school, SATs, mean girls, first kiss, first boyfriend, first time…
She was stopped at a sign labeled rape
A sign labeled him
The sign turned into a mirror and she was looking at herself
“Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all”
But, this is no fairytale
This story does not have the happy ending you’re looking for
So, if you want to STOP listening now then feel free
But, you need to realize that she will never be free
Because when she goes to sleep and closes her eyes
She wouldn’t be counting sheep but counting “hes”
I know he is.
Then as she walks to look around
To find her past self and to find him
She steps on a stick , it snaps—
Her back to reality
But, the reality is that every 107 seconds, another American is sexually assaulted
The reality is the number of women raped every year is 300,000 according to the Department of Justice
But, more like the Department of –
because if there was justice there still wouldn’t be

#FreeKesha trending on twitter
The American dream is to seem attainable

But I guess that it's exclusive

I guess that justice is exclusive

To those who haven't been broken

To those who haven't the most intimate part of themselves exposed

“Stop thinking about it”
“Stop wearing those revealing clothes”

but, why should I stop when he didn’t?

She gets lit on the weekends to try and forget about what happened
She plugs in her headphones and turns it up as high as it can go
Max volume is no eraser
Max volume is not the murderer of the sound in the hallways
So, she can still hear the group in the hallway saying that all rape victims are attention whores
The comedian who makes light of the hearts that have been made heavy because of sexual assaults
I wish they would just Stop
But, my wishes don’t come true
I am not Aladdin
But, what happened is always in the back of her mind
Like the monster under the bed
But, instead the monster is in her head
He has always been monster
She looks at herself and what she became
She looks down at her hand as her tears
Stop, drop, and roll off
The 4 pills that are being caressed
She says this is the last time she’ll ever cry


I am here to fight for the women

For the men

Who are afraid to say the truth about their story

Who are afraid that the very protection they are supposed to get from their country is nonexistent

And for those who say “America: the Great”

I want you to look the millions of rape victims in the eye

And tell them that what happened to them was great

Tell me then


America: the great

It is no longer reality

There is no dream anymore

And I'm not sure if we can ever get that dream back. .

Reality is the mask that the dream now wears, and it's uglier than ever.

Welcome to the Amercian Nightmare


This poem is about: 
My country
Our world


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