Chasidy Rae Sisk Poetry
They hold me down. “For your own good”, they say.
“Won’t be a whore now. No man would want you.”
He hurts me there. Nothing to ease the pain.
I don’t want this; nothing I can do.
He uses a thorn to cut off my clit,
next takes my lips with a sharp shard of glass.
They hold me together while he sews it.
Parents say, “Now, no one can think you’re fast.”
Fast forward five years, fifteen, wedding night.
Nervous and shaking, I was a virgin in bed;
Intent on slitting me open, he unsheathed his knife.
I took it and killed him, then silently fled.
They can’t take more; I’ve nothing left to give.
I cannot forget; I will never forgive.
Chasidy Rae Sisk 3/27/07