Strong arms grip her against her will
Roving fingers strip her clothes off against her wish
Randy hands molest her without consent
Whilst she craves the embrace of the night to shield her dignity
But guess this isn’t her night.
Sprawled and gagged she lay defeated as men without faces
suck the life from her body,
filthy words assault her ears
mocking the body that now seem alien to her
but each has his style, so what’s the hurry
afterall, it’s a popular saying, the more the merry
and so on this merry go round she goes…some ride too slow, some much too fast
leaving her winded, she lost count of how many round she’s done
Now if only retribution was something she could cash out
rather closing her eyes, praying she could tap out
and bring an end to the rehearsal so she’d wash the stench that clung off.
Oh! She washed it off alright…the stench I mean
if you count the petrol being poured on her as water and
the match as soap to scrub the marks left off
like wood for a bon fire, she is set ablaze and her captors dance round in glee
knowing they will walk away free
with none the wiser.
Silently contemplating the insurgency of their act
and conferring on themselves the title of Zoro
placed to rid the earth of a girl that now looks sculpted from ash
dressed to torment their eyes…with certainty! She was an ashi
well… that’s the line they will stick to till hell freezes over
at least for now, everything looks kosher
their deed hidden but soon the chicken will come home to roost
or maybe …I just have too much faith in fate?