Sexual Abuse Poems - Poems about Sexual Abuse

if it was your story

[An anti -victim blaming project]

[“He was asking for it with those clothes,” the officer said, pointing at the black shorts he wore. It was torn at the bottom, with knotted hems and hanging strings from his shaking silhouette. A spectating officer nodded, turning to him and grunting, “Make sure to cover up— maybe then, this

Why me?- No More

Count the men; like the stars
All in red, A penetrated holes art
I shouldn't be walking; into the night 
Alas! Walk 365 steps, back from his right
He can hear me, All can smell me
Even when I am a ghost to me.
They tie my legs, shouting for devi
Only ending up rupturing me without any tyranny 
Who will

When No Means Nothing

…
Throughout my life, the same phrase has been repeated to me- “no means no.”
The concept of refusing an action you’re uncomfortable abetted me towards hope; growing up, distraught was brought upon me due to my safety. When I felt as if I was in danger, that phrase comforted me; it acted as a reminder that

I AM JUST A POET

Somewhere in the deep dark night
A child suppresses tears of shame and guilt 
Her spirit crushed, her innocence torn
An Uncle, a family friend
Drank greedily from her well of youth
His thirst, a vile sickness in the dark.  

Beneath palms and ancient baobabs
A homeless owl’s cry echoes in the wind
Lonely, like the hearts of men who

The Perfect Wife

I had a great time.

I thought as I tiptoed across the floor, afraid to crack the eggshells.

Feeling the warmth of the morning sun hitting my face through the curtain.

Hearing the soft sighs of sleep coming from our marital bed.

I had a great time.

Denial comforts me.

I had a great time I smiled.

As I wash the blood

Beautiful Girls

I see the way your body dances through the halls of our home, how dirty you are. dirty little girl.
My teacher said this is not what we do. Mom tells me this is bad.
They’re wrong. Beautiful girls get lied to.
Dad tells me not to do these things.
This is because he does not love you. Beautiful

playground scars

Little Girl swings in the air,
legs pumping, wind in hair
the closest to flight she’ll ever be.
freedom and fairytales whisper in her ears,
telling her with each swing, she’ll be closer to the clouds.

Little Girl and Little Boy swing in the air,
legs pumping, wind in hair,
‘friends forever’ echo in their laughter.
their shadows chase after them in the

Insect innocence

Drink the poison from my blood, breathe the rot from my lungs.
Take all that has been decaying inside me and nurse it to health like an injured bird.
A child who was once pure, turned sour like a piece of fruit rotting under the summer sun.
Ice in her veins, frozen over from fear.
Her days numbered, belief

You Are a Thief

You are a thief.
You stole something that wasn't yours to take.
You stole the smile on her face
All her spiritual beauty and grace.
You stole her innocence 
You stole her childhood.
She can't even leave her bed without wishing she were dead.
She can't even look at you without feeling ashamed
She was the one who took all of the

More Than Once

It got worse each time,
But was always intrusive.
Inside and out you would climb.
Until you were fully protrusive.

First time was all hands,
Then you moved down below,
I listened to your demands
I didn't want the bruises to show.

He only had a little touch,
A bit too low,
and I didnt care that much,
He said he was sorry and he didn't

At the Gbv Protest This Saturday

Their hands raise with ours and for a moment we are all standing in perfect unity, every set of fingers curled in anger and defiance - and then they throw the tear gas.

Which is rich,
Because how many women have wept,
Sliding down their walls to their bedroom floor,
To their kitchen tiles,
To the post office pavement?

How many

Facebook As Confessional Minus Sexual Abuse

Past psychological development
describes zigzagging mama's yoyo
casually, aye publicize, (asper
mein kampf) personal woe

unpleasant memories indelibly
etched, jagged, scar outlined like ticktacktoe
solitary games invariable resultant
draw between every “x” and each "o"

metaphorical of course for this poetic,
formerly non opportunistic
generic Joe Schmoe,
hoof hound cathartic airing emotionally

rocky terrain, whereby floe
tips of icebergs with poetry I tool
examining, excavating, extracting, et cetera hoe
ping

How To Tell An Italian Pinch From Sexual Abuse

Great Italian Lovers                                                    

Memories Warning-Possible Trigger For Sexual Abuse Victims

The memories pull her down,
Like the undertow. 
Drowning.
Suffocating.
She tries to fight it, 
But it’s of no use.
She feels dirty, fat, victimized, defiled,
Extorted, broken, and ugly.
She can feel their hands on her
The unwelcome touches and gestures.
She feels small, defenseless, vulnerable, violated. 
Their taunts, threats, lies, and commands fill her ears.
She covers herself with multiple layers of

Child Sexual Abuse

Children; 
Helpless, and unexpecting. 
Innocent then innocence taken away. 
Loving and trusting children being made to 
Do things against their will and having 
Sexual things done to them. 
Evil revealing itself in different ways and 
X-pecting children not to say anything. an 
Unkind and uncaring human being torturting 
A defenseless, innocent child. 
Long lasting effects

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