Say no to RAPE❌❌❌❌
I live to tell stories of how I lost my virginity
I was too used to heartbreak, that even when a boy tells me that he loves me.
I would just chuckle.
My ears would wait to want to hear “let’s go to bed and fuck”.
My lips and body would wait to want to be touched and laid down on the bed.
My eyes would desperately wait to look at him zipping his pants and leave me in tears.
My mind had already told me that no one will love me.
It had already told me that after sex, no man ever will look at me.
It had already told me that I was raped because I asked for it.
My tainted twat bind all the emotions.
I was four when I first got raped.
We were playing, he tickled me and the little me laughed.
He touched my thighs, I thought we were still playing.
His hand got into my skirt, I thought maybe he was checking my diaper.
But I was four and I had stopped wearing diapers.
Mother was in the kitchen cooking the rice.
Father was in the bathroom brushing my thighs.
His finger got into my panty, I told him that it’s hurting me.
He lubricated his fingers.
He asked me if I like it.
His pants reached the bottom of his toes.
He said: let’s try something different.
I covered my eyes with my small hands.
Daddy told me that it’s okay to peek “beside it is just a game”
Like his finger, he lubricated his phallus too.
He told me not to tell mommy or anyone else.
He told me to lay down.
I was just a young girl, and when daddy said "jump" I asked, "how high".
The rape went on and on and on.
Age seven he had raped me more than any children’s book I have ever read.
My twat had made him feel at home.
I was used to the sting of pain in my vagina caused by him.
I was used to saying “I am okay” when my mother asked me what’s wrong.
I was a sad young girl with a deep dark secret within.
I was used to playing a game I and my dad kept a secret.
I was nine when I first tasted a man’s phallus.
It tasted like an eraser.
Like everything he did to me, he told me that I will get used to it
“Besides that’s what girls my age are doing”
I kneel down in front of him while he was sitting down on the edge of the bed. I thought he wanted me to pray but he opened his pants and took out his phallus.
I remember my tears, slowly walking out of my eyes.
He forced me to eat it.
He called his phallus “adult stock sweet”.
But there was nothing sweet about it.
His milky fluid would fly to my face.
Sometimes when they don’t come out he would shout at me and tell me that I am useless.
We watched porn on Television and I only heard about Sophia the First at school when my classmates were making noise about it.
I was only called a princess when mother was around.
I remember going to sleep, with tears in my eyes, my vagina was painful and all he did was to give me painkillers.
I couldn’t tell mommy, because daddy had told me that if my mother knows she will leave the house and stay somewhere with another man.
When my mother was home, I would always feel like there is a giant wall of protection and daddy won’t just point to my bedroom and follow me so that he can rape me.
Daddy worked at home and mommy walked far from home, sometimes she would not come home at all.
It’s been weeks since daddy had stopped raping me.
I was twelve when I first had sex with a boy
He knew nothing about sex, but I had graduated with a master’s degree in this field.
He was shy, but I knew what I was doing.
Even though I knew what I was doing the sex was not good enough to quench my thirst.
Daddy had stopped having sex with me because he was now sick.
Later that month we buried him.
The doctors said he died of liver problems.
He died and we buried our secret with him.
He was a well-respected man, if I ever talk about this rape, his image will be ruined or no one will believe me. That’s what I thought.
I live to tell stories of how I lost my virginity.
When I write this, I am not asking you to feel pity for me.
I want you to give me a body product that will get rid of the smell of a man on my body.
I want you to look at me and not see a broken thing.
I want a pair of ears that will listen when I break down.
I want you to look at me and not see a damaged and a promiscuous thing.
I hate male species.
But when I am alone in my room, I fantasise about them.
I find pleasure when I masturbate.
I was sixteen when I was raped by my classmates.
Two dumb ass boys who didn’t know what they were doing.
I don’t know but to be honest, after they forced themselves on me.
I felt better, I think sex is only good when someone is forcing themselves on you.
Somehow they gave me what I have been craving so bad for.
I would masturbate but I didn’t know that the world has people like my father.
I wish they didn’t stop, I had never been touched like this ever since my father passed away.
I think my body was made to lay down and all the men would come and go.
I hate a pink colour because it reminds me of the day I first got raped.
I used to think that rape is a good thing.
Until one day, a social worker at school told us about it.
I found myself crying because I grow up knowing that rape is a good thing.
I found myself crying because then I knew that I have been raped and I was cool with it.
Tonight I can sit and cry, remembering the days he walked multiple times in my room.
He raped me. For long I thought maybe I deserve it
I lost my childhood under the belly of a man who called himself my father.
I loved this man, that I couldn’t report him and get him arrested.
I scream now because I couldn’t scream then.
I talk now because I was muted then
But, every boy I tell about how I lost my virginity, their pair of eyes looks at me like I am sewage.
I am afraid to talk about how I lost my virginity because it’s affecting my relationships.
I want to feel loved.
I want my wounds to heal and not be seen as a bad thing.
I want a man to know what happened to me and not zip his pants and leave me after he had sex with me.
I live my life in slow motion
I reminisce deeply about my past.
Dark nights find me shaking because those are the times he used to tiptoe into my bedroom.
I want to be better, that's why I broke the silence.
Maybe one day I will be better.
While I wait.
I will always say.
I am used to heartbreak because I know once I tell a man that I was raped, they never look at me again.
So before you tell me that you love me,
Know this, I was raped