I didn't want to ruin his life
Or cause him any unneeded strife
So after he touched me in the locker room that day
I decided that in silence I would stay.
He sat in my classes for the next two years,
Smirking, while I trembled in fear.
I'm an atheist, but every single night I would pray
That I would never return to the locker room that day.
He left school last year, or so I heard,
Had three strikes, had just used his third.
I wonder, would he have been able to stay
If people knew about the locker room that day?
I see him around sometimes, with his dog on a choke-chain,
Wearing a shirt that screams "NO PAIN NO GAIN".
I don't think he would feel that way
If our roles were reversed in the locker room that day.
I didn't want to cause him strife,
But to my wrist, I now hold a knife.
Maybe the blood will wash away
My memories of the locker room that day.
A/N: The counselor told me to write poetry. I'm no Poe or Duffy, but this feels very good to get out. Please, if you are the victim of sexual assault, tell somebody. A teacher, sibling, parent, grandparent, aunt, anybody. We raise our children, mainly girls but also boys to an extent, that their sexuality is something to be hidden and ashamed of. Even when something is done to them in a nonconsensual environment, we teach them that they are dirty, impure, unclean or whatever the fuck, and that is absolutely evil. If someone says or implies that to you, you slap them. Hard. You slap them right back to the fucking Dark Ages where they belong.
That said, while this poem is based on my own experiences, I've not been entirely truthful. I did tell the school. And they did nothing. Nothing which had any impact, anyway.
Just a heads up, I may post this later on my tumblr (tomwhy).