A single touch made me freeze
It’s not like freeze tag from when I was 13
His hands caress me down to my knees
My lips weren’t moving but I was begging him please
I stare at the clock as he eases into me
It’s the distraction my soul so desperately needs
Every 73 seconds... damn I’ve become a statistic
My mind is running ballistic
Maybe it’s my fault for being so pessimistic
But how can you make this a good thing
He has all the power, it’s like my body’s the throne and he’s the king
I’m sobbing as tears pour down my face
Oh god he’s starting to pick up the pace
His moans and grunts getting louder and louder
It’s like his thrust are fueled by gun powder
I look at the clock as he cums in me
It’s only been seconds, 73
Looks like I’m not the only new statistic
Jenna
The title of this poem is 73 seconds. I wrote it off true statistics I found during my research and attempted to depict what may go through a victim’s mind as they’re being sexually violated/raped. It got published in a book after winning a poetry contest and it’s one of my favorites.