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Victims of sexual abuse

All rapist leave a scar
On the flesh like bashed cars
Wide, privacy they fling
Yet, victims often cling
And those who let it out
No justice, bail the cat.

Not all plugs are for sparks
Firing, it leaves a mark
A thick permanent stain
Spreading over the brain,
It is so terrific
Not gender specific.

All rapist leave a mark
In the mind, deep and dark
That still wouldn’t go off
Vigorously when washed
And when peeled around
Regions the scars are found.

Woe betide the loan sharks
And any who would embark
On such trip creating traces
Of pain hanging on faces
And eating deep in souls
Of victims down the road.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Fabrics on the floor

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.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Justice for Uwavera II

It pains to feel the pain
Or voice unheard complains
Dug out around the roots
And uprooted from the earth
Uwa was just a girl
Twenty two, so unfair
Raped and killed in the church
She didn’t deserve such.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Justice for Uwavera (I)

Seek consent and be sure
Before you pull or draw
All bakers use a flour
Not to mess up the floor

I know you may be lust
And it is all your fault
Uwavera was just
Not an ordinary dust.

©2020 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Born of rape

I am a cell
That often sail
From abortions
And its portions
You were the maid
Ripped into shreds
Triggered I swarm
Away from shams

But your ovary
Just couldn’t free
A frightened cell
Running from hell
After a month
Doctors report
Confirmed you were
Pregnant; I feared

And since you had
No one to hold
Responsible;
Like most people
Abort and move
I thought you would
But you stood up
Strong like a rock

You carried me
A growing hill
And I wondered
Deep down under
How you managed
With all those rage
To keep me warm
Inside your womb.

©2019 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Save another victim

Blood on my hands, only ghosts comprehend
Vouching for a lion action is like defending
Children outside their mother’s womb
I and many others, are buried alive in tomb

Yesterday, I stared at the living dead
It took my strength, several rivers I cried
I tried to scream, I tried stretching my hands
Front and back, he thrust fast and hard.

He got up, tucked his lobe inside his robe
Ripped off, I stared at the miserably ropes
My brain boiled, my heavy heart brawled
As tears dripped, so did my bloods crawl

I had always thought he couldn’t hurt a fly
Little did I know like a fox he was a sly
How could safe haven bring terror to me
…Hi everyone, an angel did this to me!

Stop condemning and casting stones at me
For accusing an Angel who keeps abusing me
Kill me if you may, but save another child
Act now, justice delayed is justice denied.

©2019 http://vinzpoetry.WordPress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Nightingale Alley

Sitting on rocks by the beach
River flows with a force
That could erode an alley.

Every day thunder strikes
Can you hear the nightingale
As it sings melodiously

Do not hear but listen deep
The legs are forced open in pain
Listen beyond its nocturnal songs

The peaceful River is a mirage
There are tears in tone of its voice
It cries out, begging for help.

A few minute pleasure, a leisure?
Hello male, and hello females
There is no right in being rapist

Seek consent, it might be yours
Wait a minute, think about it,
What if you were your own victims.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Abused

At ten, her tail
Rotates a snail….
Hammer or nail?
They ask a girl
Called Abigail…

She’s rape today
Next day blackmail…
She opens the gate
To rape and fates
A style she hates.

Bruises she claims
From sane and insane
She hides with aim
Because blackmails
Stains, and her name

Who is to blame
Acquired flame
Or are gods lame
Watching her game
Bleeding in shame.

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