Her dress is not to blame
For burning down bridges
To quench an ugly urge
And her not resisting
Means not it is no rape.

Sex ought to connect souls
With faces looking better
Not grievances, between legs
Cutting across genders
From the grey to cradles.

Torn fabrics on the floor
And a penetration
Whether sober or not
You are a rapist blame
No alcohol and drug.

Be a lover, not a fighter,
Unless she likes it rough
And never you ever
Force your way through,
Without her precious consent.

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Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu