She was raped
Her clothes is drenched with tears as she wanders for place to rest.

A poem by Christopher Cummings

She was raped
Her clothes is drenched with tears as she wanders for place to rest.

Tears of anguish fills her eyes as she watches her peers pass by. In the street is where she resides.
She has no parents.
They went ahead in an accident.
The street is her resident.
Her hands are coarse as she stares at strangers for help.

Her soul is accustomed to sleepless nights.
Her spirit is weary on this road of life.
She has lost her pride, to unknown men her virginity was taken.

Her clothes was soaked with blood when she cried for help.
Feeling lost because the world has become a cage for her. She feels lost even standing in front of the mirror. She tried to hide the pain with smile; but deep inside she feels hurt.
She was living! with dreams and aspiration for the future, when they took advantage of her comfort.

She’s broken, her predators left her with an uncured virus.
Tears of anguish fills her eyes when she puts on her thinking cap. She has been humiliated and stigmatized in her peers’ eyes.

Don’t expect her to just let go.
Have you ever heard that someone has been stabbed in the chest and didn’t bleed?

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