what has become of us?

every day, there is a new story – another girl, another woman raped. more tears shed. hearts trodden upon and silenced. as if our stories mean nothing. as if our tears mean nothing.
what has become of us?
these stories have broken my heart.
please – please just stop.
you have set our home on fire
and let the curtains billow
freely
the windows remain wide
an open invitation to escape
yet makeshift ropes rolled out of stark white sheets
have turned orange in the flames
as masked men roam free
underneath
their hands on these ropes
somehow
unburnt
you have pulled out the guns
and loaded them with silver bullets
then proceeded
to throw them
at the masked intruders
the fire has reached the garden
the green grass
invisible screams
of anguish
over and over and over and over
and over
ignored
over and over
there are the bullets now
there is the war – !
i lament
what has become of humanity?
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Miniature Prose

nothing can hurt more

than seeing your child suffer

watching her cry at 4 am

and knowing there is nothing you can do

watching her rip apart her body

piece by piece

over and over

like that boy who thought he owned her

and she –

she who believed it.